from that minute. This did not worry the schout-fiscal much, as he had
not been paid his salary in three years! But Van Twiller did not stop
there. He sent the schout-fiscal as a prisoner to Holland, which was a
foolish thing for him to do. For the prisoner pleaded his own cause to
such good effect that before the end of the year 1637, Van Twiller was
recalled to Holland, after he had governed New Netherland for four
years, very much to his own interest, and very much against the interest
of the West India Company and everybody else.

[Illustration: Dutch Costumes.]




CHAPTER V

WILLIAM KIEFT and the WAR with the INDIANS


A dreary winter came and went, and just as the first signs of spring
showed in the fields that closed about the fort, a ship sailed up the
bay, bringing a stranger to the province.

This was William Kieft, the new Governor of New Netherland.

He was a blustering man, who became very angry when anyone disagreed
with him, and who very soon was known as "William the Testy." He made no
effort to make the Indians his friends, and the result was that much of
his rule of ten years was a term of bloody warfare.

The affairs of the Company had been sadly neglected by Governor Van
Twiller, and Governor Kieft, in a nervous, testy, energetic fashion set
about remedying them. The fort was almost in ruins from neglect. The
church was in little better condition. The mills were so out of repair
that even if the wind could have reached them they could not have been
made to do their work properly. There were smugglers who carried away
furs without even a thought of the koopman, who was waiting to record
the duties which should have been paid on them. There were those who
defied all law and order, and sold guns and powder and liquor to the
Indians, regardless of the fact that the penalty for doing so was death.
For guns and liquor had been found to be dangerous things to put in
savage hands.

Governor Kieft rebuilt the houses, put down all smugglers, and set
matters in New Amsterdam in good working order generally. The patroon
system of peopling the colony had proven a total failure. So, soon after
Kieft came, the West India Company decided on another plan. They
furnished free passage to anyone who promised to cultivate land in the
new country. In this way there would be no patroons to act as masters.
Each man would own his land, and could come and go as he saw fit. This
brought many colonists.

[Illustration: The Bowling Green in 1840.]

At this time there were really only two well-defined roads on the Island
of Manhattan. One stretched up through the island and led to the
outlying farms and afterward became The Bowery; the second led along the
water-side, and is to-day Pearl Street. Bowling Green, although it was
not called Bowling Green then, was the open space in front of the fort
where the people gathered on holidays. In the fourth year of Governor
Kieft's rule, he conceived the idea of holding fairs in this open space,
where fine cows and fat pigs could be exhibited. These fairs attracted
so many visitors from distant parts of the colony, that the Governor had
a large stone house built, with a roof running up steep to a peak, in
regular, step-like form. This was called a tavern, and could accommodate
all the visitors. In after years it became the first City Hall.

If you wish to stand where this building was, you must go to the head of
Coenties Slip, in Pearl Street. On the building which is there now you
will see a bronze tablet which tells all about the old Stadt Huys.

The church that Walter Van Twiller had built was little better than a
barn. The minister wanted a new one. So did his congregation. Governor
Kieft decided that there should be one of stone, and that it should be
built inside the fort. There was a question as how to secure the money
to build it. Kieft gave a small amount, as did other colonists, but
there was not enough. Fortunately, just at this time, a daughter of
Bogardus, the minister, was married. At the wedding, when the guests
were in good humor, a subscription-list was handed out. The guests tried
to outdo one another in subscribing money for the new church. Next day
some of the subscribers were sorry they had agreed to give so much, but
the Governor accepted no excuses and insisted on the money. It was
collected, and the church was built. Close upon this time Kieft decided
that he needed money for other work, and he told the Indians of the
province that he expected something from them. Of course the Indians had
no such money as we have in these days. They used instead beads, very
handsome and made from clam-shells. These beads were arranged on
strings. There were black ones and white ones, and the black were worth
twice as much as the white. The Indians did not see why they should give
money to the Governor. Kieft explained that it was to pay for the
protection given to them by the Dutch. Then the Indians understood less
than ever, for the Dutch had never done anything for them except to
give them as little as they could for their valuable furs. The Indians
hated Kieft, and this act of his made their hatred more bitter. A
war-cloud was gathering. The Indians were well prepared for war, for
they had been supplied with guns, with bullets, and with powder by those
greedy Dutchmen, the smugglers, who thought more of their personal
gains than of the safety of the colonists.

[Illustration: Selling Arms to the Indians.]

Over on Staten Island about this time, an Indian stole several hogs
from a colonist. Kieft's soldiers found the tribe to which the Indian
belonged, and in revenge killed ten Indian warriors. After this the
war-cloud grew darker.

Kieft was anxious that there should be war. But there were many of the
colonists who did all in their power to prevent it. The men who wanted
peace were headed by that able sailor, Captain David Pietersen De Vries,
who had founded a colony on Staten Island. A council of twelve men was
formed to decide whether there should be peace or war. This council
declared that there should be no war. They then began to look into
public affairs, for they thought it all wrong that Kieft should have
the only voice in the management. The Governor regretted having called
together the twelve men. But he soon got rid of them, and to show that
he was still absolute ruler, he decided to make war upon the Indians.
Then the war-cloud broke.

Those Indians who lived nearest New Amsterdam were fighting with another
tribe called the Mohawks. The nearby Indians thought that since Kieft
had been paid to protect them, he should do so now. So they gathered,
some on the Island of Manhattan, and some on the nearby shore of New
Jersey. But instead of protecting them, Kieft sent his soldiers against
these friendly Indians, and in the night killed them as they slept. The
soldiers came so suddenly upon the Indians, sleeping peacefully on the
Jersey shore, and slew them so quickly in the darkness, that the Indians
believed they had been attacked by the unfriendly tribe. One Indian,
with his squaw, made his way to the fort. He was met at the gate by De
Vries. "Save us," he cried, "the Mohawks have fallen upon us, and have
killed all our people." But De Vries answered, sadly, "No Indian has
done this. It is the Dutch who have killed your people." And he pointed
toward the deep woods close by. "Go there for safety, but do not come
here."

This was not war. It was murder. A cruel, treacherous act, which the
greater number of colonists condemned and the record of which is a dark
stain on the memory of William Kieft.

After this, all the Indians within the border of New Netherland
combined. Colonists were shot as they worked in the fields. Cattle were
driven away. Houses were robbed and burned. Women and children were
dragged into captivity. The war raged fiercely for three years. By this
time Indians and colonists were worn out. Then the war ended. But
scarcely a hundred men were left on the Island of Manhattan. The country
was a waste.

A strong fence had been built across the island, to keep what cattle
remained within bounds. This fence marked the extreme limit of the
settlement of New Amsterdam. The fence in time gave place to a wall, and
when in still later years the wall was demolished and a street laid out
where it had been, the thoroughfare was called Wall Street, and remains
so to this day.

While the entire province was in a very bad way, and the people
suffering on every side, Governor Kieft sent to the West India Company
in Holland _his_ version of the war. He showed himself to be all in the
right, and proved, to his own satisfaction, that the province was in a
fairly good condition; though during all the years he had been Governor
he had not once left the settlement on the Island of Manhattan to look
after other parts.

Certain of the colonists also sent a report to Holland. Theirs being
much nearer the truth, carried such weight with it, that the West India
Company decided on the immediate recall of Governor Kieft, who had done
so much injury to the colony, and had shown himself to be utterly
incapable of governing.

Kieft returned to Holland in a ship that was packed from stem to stern
with the finest of furs. The ship was wrecked at sea. Kieft was drowned,
and the furs were lost.

In the same ship was Everardus Bogardus (the minister who had married
Annetje Jans), who was on his way to Holland on a mission relating to
his church. The people of New Amsterdam mourned for their minister, but
there was little sorrow felt for the Governor who had plunged the colony
in war by his obstinate and cruel temper.

[Illustration: Smoking the Pipe of Peace.]




CHAPTER VI

PETER STUYVESANT, the LAST of the DUTCH GOVERNORS


It was a gay day for the little colony of New Amsterdam, that May
morning in the year 1647, when a one-legged man landed at the lower part
of the island, and stumped his way up the path that led to the fort. Not
only everyone that lived in the town gathered there, but everyone on the
island, and many from more distant parts. There were Indians, too, who
walked sedately, their quiet serenity in strange contrast to the
colonists, who yelled and shouted for joy, and clapped their hands at
every salute from the guns. And when the fort was reached (it was only
a few steps from the river-bank) the man with the wooden leg turned to
those who followed him. The guns were silent, and the people stood
still.

"I shall govern you," said he, "as a father does his children."

Then there were more shouts, and more booming of cannon, and the name of
Peter Stuyvesant was on every tongue. For the man with a wooden leg was
Peter Stuyvesant, the new Governor appointed by the West India Company,
and not one of those who shouted that day had an idea that he was to be
the last of the Dutch governors.

Stuyvesant had long been in the employ of the West India Company, and
his leg had been shot off in a battle while he was in their service.

He was a stern man, with a bad temper, and seemed to have made it a
point in life never to yield to anyone in anything. He ruled in the way
he thought best, and he let it always be understood that he did not care
much for the advice of others. He did what he could for the people to
make their life as happy as possible. Of course he had orders from the
West India Company that he was bound to obey, and these orders did not
always please the people. But his rule was just, and he was the most
satisfactory of all the Dutch governors.

Stuyvesant's first work was to put the city in better condition. He did
this by having the vacant lots about the fort either built upon or
cleared. The hog-pens which had been in front of the houses were taken
away. All the fences were put in repair, and where weeds had grown rank,
they were replaced by pretty gardens. These, and a great many other
things he did, until the town took on quite a new air.

Up to this time the people had been ruled by governors who did all
things just as they saw fit. They became tired of this, and complained
so much that the Company in Holland decided to make a change. So after
Stuyvesant had been Governor for a while, some other officers were
appointed to help him. There was one officer called a schout, very
much the same as a mayor is in these days. Two others were called
burgomasters, and five others were called schepens. The burgomasters
and the schepens presided over the trials, in the stone tavern which
Governor Kieft had built at Coenties Slip, and which had now become
the Stadt Huys or City Hall.

[Illustration: The Old Stadt Huys of New Amsterdam.]

With the appointment of these officers, New Amsterdam became a city.
But as Governor Stuyvesant named the officers and as he plainly told
them that they must not interfere with his orders, and as he still had
his own way, regardless of what the officers said and did, the colony
was little different as a city from what it had been before.

In the fall of this year, 1652, war was declared between England and
Holland. Stuyvesant, fearing that the English in New England, which
was on the borders of New Netherland, would attack the city, set about
fortifying it. The fence that Governor Kieft had built so that the
cattle could not wander away was changed into a wall that extended from
river to river. The fort was repaired, and a strong body of citizens
mounted guard by day and by night. Everything was prepared for an
attack. But the enemy did not come after all.

Matters went along quietly enough for three years, until some Swedes
on the Delaware River began to build houses on Dutch lands. Then
Stuyvesant, with 160 men, in seven ships, sailed around to the Delaware
River, and conquered the Swedes.

It was quite ten years since the Indian war, and Stuyvesant, by his
kindness, had made friends of the savages, and had come to be called
their "great friend," But soon after he left to make war on the Swedes,
one of the colonists killed an Indian. In a few days there was an
uprising of Indian tribes. In New Jersey and on Staten Island they
murdered colonists, burned houses, and laid farms waste. Stuyvesant
hurriedly returned. He made peace with the Indians, treating them
kindly, as though there had never been any trouble. He gave them
presents, and used such gentle measures that the war which had
threatened to be so serious ended abruptly.

In the calmer days that followed, attention was given to improvements
in the city. By this time there were a thousand persons on the island.
Streets were nicely laid out, and the city of New Amsterdam grew, day
by day. It was a tiny place still, however, for it all lay below the
present Wall Street. Some distance beyond the city wall was a fenced-in
pasture for cattle, which was later to become The Common, and still
later City Hall Park. Farther on there was a wide lake, so deep that
it was thought to be bottomless. On its banks were a vast heap of
oyster-shells, where an Indian village had been. This place was called
Kalch-hook, or Shell-point. Afterward it was shortened to The Kalch, and
in time was called The Collect. The lake was called Collect Lake. There
is no trace of it to-day, for it was filled in, and the Tombs Prison now
stands upon the spot.

The entire province was in a flourishing condition, but danger was near.
The English had long looked with covetous eye upon the possessions of
the Dutch in America. The English, it must be remembered, claimed not
only New Netherland, but a great part of the American continent, on the
plea that the Cabots had discovered it.

After all this long time, when the Cabots had been forgotten by most
persons, in the year 1664, Charles II. decided that the English claim
was just, and gave New Netherland to his brother James, Duke of York.
The Duke of York at once sent four ships filled with soldiers to take
possession of his property.

[Illustration: Stuyvesant Leaving Fort Amsterdam.]

When the English war-ships sailed up the bay, the town was
ill-protected, and the people had no desire to resist, for Stuyvesant
and the West India Company had been most strict, and they hoped to be
more free under English rule. Stuyvesant, with scarcely a supporter,
stood firm and unyielding. He had no thought of submitting to superior
force. "I would rather be carried out dead," he exclaimed. But when at
length he realized that he was absolutely alone, and that there were no
means of defence for the city, he surrendered.

On this same morning of September 8, 1664, Stuyvesant, with his head
bowed sadly, marched at the head of his soldiers out of Fort Amsterdam,
with flags flying and drums beating. And the English soldiers, who had
landed, and were waiting a little way off, entered the fort with _their_
flags flying and _their_ drums beating.

So the city of New Amsterdam became the city of New York, and the
province of New Netherland became the province of New York, and Fort
Amsterdam became Fort James--all this in honor of James, Duke of York,
who now came into possession.

Stuyvesant went to Holland to explain why he had surrendered New
Netherland. But he came back again, and years after he died in the
little Bouwerie Village which he had built. In St. Mark's Church to this
day may be seen a tablet which tells that the body of the last Dutch
Governor lies buried there.

[Illustration]




CHAPTER VII

NEW YORK under the ENGLISH and the DUTCH


So now the conquered province had come into the possession of the Duke
of York, and Colonel Richard Nicolls, who was in command of the English
soldiers, took charge. This first English Governor appeared anxious to
make all the people his friends. He made Thomas Willett Mayor, and
Willett being very popular, all the citizens rejoiced, and said the new
Governor was a fine man. During three years Colonel Nicolls humored the
people so much that they were well satisfied. At the end of that time he
had grown tired of the new country, and asked to be relieved. The people
were really sorry when he returned to England and Francis Lovelace took
his place.

Governor Lovelace did not get along so well. He was a man of harsh
manner, who did not have the patience or the inclination to flatter with
fine promises. Lovelace wanted everyone to understand that he was
master. Very soon, when the people said they thought they should have
the right to control their own affairs, the Governor told them that he
did not think it was best for them to have too much to do with the
governing of the city. But he did some things that pleased the people.
For one thing, he brought about the custom of having merchants meet
once a week at a bridge which crossed Broad Street at the present
Exchange Place. There is no bridge there now, but in those days it was
necessary, for Broad Street was a ditch which extended from the river
almost to Wall Street. But though the ditch has been filled up, and the
bridge is gone, the locality has ever since been one where merchants
have gathered.

[Illustration: Departure of Nicolls.]

The Governor also had a messenger make regular trips to Boston with
letters, which was the first mail route from the city. Matters were
going along nicely when trouble arose between England and Holland again.
Then the Dutch decided that it would be a good time to get back their
lost province of New Netherland. The English in New York heard of this,
and made all sorts of warlike preparations. But the Dutch were so long
in coming that the preparations for war were given up. Finally the Dutch
ships did arrive unexpectedly, sailing up the bay one morning in the
month of July, in the year 1673. Governor Lovelace was in a distant
part of the colony, and the city had been left under the care of Captain
John Manning.

Manning was in despair. He knew full well that there was no hope of
defending the city successfully. He sent a messenger dashing off to the
Governor, and he sent another to the Dutch ships to ask what they were
doing in the bay, just as though he did not know. The Dutch sent word
back that the city must be surrendered to them that same day. And to
show they meant what was said, the Dutch admiral despatched one of his
captains, Anthony Colve by name, who landed with 600 men. The Dutch
captain agreed that if the English left the fort without a show of
resistance, they could do so with the honors of war and without
interference. Then he and his soldiers tramped down the road that is now
Broadway. The English marched out of the fort, and the Dutch marched in;
just as nine years before the Dutch had marched out and the English had
marched in.

When the King in England heard that New York had been so easily
captured, all the blame was placed on Captain Manning, and after a time
you will see what became of him.

[Illustration: The Dutch Ultimatum.]

Captain Colve took charge of the reconquered province. He began
industriously to undo all that the English had done. The province was
again named New Netherland. The city was called New Orange, in honor of
the Prince of Orange--a prince of Holland, who in a few years was to
marry a daughter of the Duke of York, and who in a few more years was
to be King of England under the title of William III.

Captain Colve put the fort in good condition, repaired the city wall,
made a soldier of every man and drilled them every day. He had the city
gates locked at night, and put a guard at them to see that no one came
in or passed out.

In less than a year, when the city was in shape to be defended, the
English and the Dutch made up their quarrel. The province of New
Netherland was returned to the English, and became again the province of
New York, and the Dutch soldiers left the Island of Manhattan, never
again to return to it in warlike array.




CHAPTER VIII

SOMETHING about the BOLTING ACT


Edmund Andros was sent to govern New York for the Duke of York.
The people complained a good deal because he acted as though he were a
king with absolute power. They asked that they have some voice in the
direction of their affairs. They got up a petition and sent it to the
Duke in England.

"What do the people want?" said the Duke. "If they are not satisfied,
they can always appeal to me." He did not see that they had just
appealed to him, and in vain.

Captain Manning, who had been in charge of the province when the Dutch
recaptured it, came again to New York with Andros. Many who had lost
their property by the coming of the Dutch, complained bitterly to
Andros. So the Governor, and his council, and the officers of the
city held many conferences, with the result that Captain Manning was
arrested. He was found guilty of cowardice, and his sword was broken
in front of the Stadt Huys in the presence of the citizens, and he was
declared, on the good authority of King Charles II., unfit ever again
to hold public office.

Although disgraced, Captain Manning did not seem to care much. He owned
a beautiful wooded island in the East River, to which he now retired.
He was wealthy, and there he lived and entertained royally during the
remainder of his life.

Andros did many things for the general good. When he had been Governor
four years, and when the most important product of trade was flour, a
law was made by which no one was permitted to make flour outside of the
city. This was called the Bolting Act. Flour cannot be made unless it
is "bolted"--or has the bran taken from it--and so the act came by its
name. The right to grind all the grain into flour may not now seem very
important, but it really was, for it brought all the trade to the city.
So you see the Bolting Act was a very good thing for the city, and very
bad for the people who did not live in the city. The city folks became
very prosperous indeed, but the others, because they could not make or
sell flour, became poorer day by day.

This went on for sixteen years, and then the law came to an end. But by
that time all the business of the entire province had centred in the
city so firmly that it could not be drawn away.

[Illustration]

So, after this, when you look at a picture of the Seal of New York,
and see a windmill and two barrels of flour, you will remember that the
windmill sails worked the mill, and the barrels were filled with flour
which laid the foundation of the city's fortunes; and were put on the
seal so that this fact would always be remembered. The beavers on the
seal suggest the early days when the trade in beaver skins made a city
possible. At one time there was a crown on the seal--a king's crown--but
that gave way to an eagle when the English King no longer had a claim on
New York.

Now that the province was prosperous, one would think that the people
would have been quite happy. But they were not. They did not like
Governor Andros because they thought that he taxed them too heavily, and
they sent so many petitions to the Duke of York that, in 1681, Andros
was recalled, and Colonel Thomas Dongan was appointed the new Governor.
A few years later, when the Duke of York became King James II., he
remembered how carefully Andros had carried out his orders, and
appointed him Governor of New England; where he conducted matters so
much to the satisfaction of his King that he earned the title of "The
Tyrant of New England."

When Governor Dongan reached the city and announced that the Duke had
instructed him to let the people have something to say as to how they
should be governed, he was joyfully received. It really seemed now that
everything was going to be satisfactory. But there came a sudden check.
Two years after Dongan became Governor, the Duke of York was made King
of England. He thereupon ordered Dongan to make all the laws himself,
without regard to what the people did or did not want. The power to make
the laws was a great power, but Governor Dongan was a fair and just man
and did not abuse it. The year after this he granted a charter to the
city, known ever since as the Dongan Charter, which was so just that it
is still the base on which the rights of citizens rest.

But while Dongan was popular with the King's subjects, he became
unpopular with the King. This was because he stood in the way of the
plans of his royal master whenever those plans interfered with the good
of the people. He must have known what the result would be. Whether he
knew it or not, it came in the year 1688. The King joined the colony of
New England and the colony of New York, and called this united territory
New England. Dongan then ceased to be Governor, having ruled the
province well.




CHAPTER IX

THE STIRRING TIMES of JACOB LEISLER


Sir Edmund Andros, who, you will remember, had been appointed Governor
of New England, had been knighted for obeying the King's commands. He
now became Governor of the united provinces. He made his home in Boston,
and left the care of New York to his deputy, Francis Nicholson. In this
year a son was born to the English King, and the people rejoiced. But
these were stormy times in England, for King James II. was a tyrant who
ordered a great many of his subjects killed when they refused to believe
in what he believed. And the people, grown weary and heartsick,
overthrew King James and put William III. on the throne. So the sights
and sounds of rejoicing over the birth of a prince were scarcely over,
when the news came that James was no longer King, and New York was soon
in a state of confusion.

In what had been New England before the provinces were united, the
people hated Andros. They arrested him. And as they had never been in
favor of uniting New England and New York, they restored their old
officers and disunited the two provinces, Andros was sent a prisoner to
England to give an account of his doings to King William, and New York
was left without a Governor. The men who had served under King James
insisted that they remain in charge of the province until King William
sent new officers to replace them. But most of them wanted to have all
who had had anything to do with King James put out of office at once. So
those who wanted this change took charge of the city, and chose as their
leader a citizen named Jacob Leisler. More than twenty years before,
this Jacob Leisler had come from Holland as a soldier of the West India
Company. He had left the service and had become a wealthy merchant. He
had a rude manner, and but little education. He looked upon as an enemy,
and as an enemy of King William, every man who did not think as he did.

The mass of the people now gathered around Leisler and became known as
the Leislerian party. They selected a number of citizens, calling them
the Committee of Safety, and the committee gave Leisler power to see
that peace was preserved. Those who were opposed to Leisler, but who,
just as strongly as he, favored King William, were called the
anti-Leislerian party. These last were headed by Francis Nicholson, who
had watched over the colony for Governor Andros. Nicholson finding that
he had few followers, sailed for England.

Leisler had the fortifications repaired, and a battery of guns set up
outside the fort. This is the battery which gave to the present locality
its name, though all signs of guns have disappeared.

Leisler had an adviser in Jacob Milborne, his son-in-law, who wrote his
letters, and counselled him in every way.

In December came a messenger from King William, with a commission for
whoever was in charge of the city, to act until further orders. Leisler
obtained possession of the commission. He became bolder after this, and
showed such a disposition to do just as he pleased, that he made enemies
of a great many of his friends. Advised by Milborne, he made laws, and
imprisoned all those who refused to obey them or to recognize his
authority. Day by day those who were opposed to Leisler and Milborne
grew in numbers. Street riots occurred, and several persons were
injured. Leisler's life was threatened, and he went about attended by a
guard of soldiers. Finally Nicholas Bayard, who had been Mayor, and who
was looked upon as leader of the anti-Leislerian party, was put in
prison with some others. Bayard would doubtless have been executed had
he not written an humble letter to Leisler saying that he had been in
the wrong and Leisler in the right. But he wrote to save his life, not
that he really believed himself to be in the wrong. He did save his
life, but he was kept in jail.

Leisler's enemies continued active. They had a powerful friend in
Francis Nicholson, who had reached England and had been received with
favor there. He hated Leisler, and denounced him as a traitor before
King William.

Leisler, after he had taken charge of the province, wrote to the King,
but his letter was written in imperfect English and was not understood.
Matters were in a bad state, and were daily becoming worse, when the
King appointed Henry Sloughter Governor of New York.

[Illustration: New York in 1700.]




CHAPTER X

THE SAD END of JACOB LEISLER


This Henry Sloughter was not a good choice. He was a worthless man, who
had travelled a great deal, and had spent other people's money whenever
he could get it. Now, when he could find no one in England to supply him
with money, he took the post of Governor of New York, and his only
thought was how much money he could wring from the people. The enemies
of Leisler rejoiced at his coming, for they knew that it meant the
downfall of Leisler.

Sloughter sailed for New York with a body of soldiers, but his ship was
tossed about by the sea, and carried far out of its course, so that the
ship of his assistant, Major Richard Ingoldsby, arrived first. But
Leisler refused to give up command until Sloughter came. This was three
months later, and during that time Ingoldsby and his soldiers did all
they could to harass Leisler, who held possession of the little fort,
and refused to give it up until he saw the King's order.

When Sloughter arrived, members of the party opposed to Leisler hurried
on board the vessel, and escorted him to the City Hall, where at
midnight he took the oath of office.

Within a few days Governor Sloughter and his friends met in the City
Hall, where the council of the new Governor was sworn in--a council
every member of which was an enemy of Leisler. Then Leisler was
arrested, with his son-in-law, Milborne, and both were condemned to
death as rebels. But the Governor was afraid of displeasing the King by
putting Leisler to death, for, after all, Leisler was the man who had
been the first to recognize the authority of King William in New York.
He refused to sign the death-warrant. But the enemies of Leisler were
not content. Nicholas Bayard, who had become more than ever bitter
because he had been kept for thirteen months in prison, was anxious for
revenge. The council urged the Governor to carry out the sentence, and
he finally signed the death-warrant. Two days later Leisler and Milborne
were led to execution. The scaffold had been erected in Leisler's own
garden, close by where the post-office is now. The people thronged about
it, standing in the cold, drizzling rain. They wept, for many of them
had been on the side of Leisler.

[Illustration: Sloughter Signing Leisler's Death-warrant.]

Leisler ascended the scaffold with firm step, and looked at the people
he had tried to serve.

"What I have done has been for the good of my country," he said, sadly.
"I forgive my enemies, as I hope to be forgiven."

And so he died; believing that he had done his duty.

Milborne was full of hate for those who caused his death. Close by the
scaffold stood Robert Livingston, a citizen who had always been strongly
opposed to Leisler. To this man Milborne pointed, and fiercely cried:

"You have caused my death. For this I will impeach you before the Bar of
God." And so he died.

The bodies of both men were interred close by the scaffold.

Four years later the English Parliament declared that Leisler had acted
under the King's command, and had therefore been in the right, after
all. So tardy justice was done to Leisler's memory.

After the death of Leisler, there was an end of open revolt, and affairs
were reasonably quiet, although it was many a long year before the
rancor of the late struggle and the bitter hatred of the friends and
enemies of Leisler died out.

Order was restored, and attention was turned to public improvement.
New streets were laid out, and markets were built. In front of the
City Hall, by the water-side of Coenties Slip, there were set up a
whipping-post, a cage, a pillory, and a ducking-block; which were to
serve as warnings to evil-doers, and to be used in case the warning
was not effective.

But Sloughter did not live to see these improvements completed. A few
months after his arrival he died suddenly, so suddenly that there was a
suggestion that he had been poisoned by some friend of Leisler. But it
was proven that his death was a natural one, and his body was placed in
a vault next to that of Peter Stuyvesant, in the Bouwerie Village
church-yard.