THE preceding Tale is given, almost in the precise words
in which I heard it related at a Corporation meeting of the
ancient city of the Manhattoes, ^* at which were present many
of its sagest and most illustrious burghers. The narrator was
a pleasant, shabby, gentlemanly old fellow in pepper-and-salt
clothes, with a sadly humorous face; and one whom I strongly
suspected of being poor -- he made such efforts to be entertain-
ing. When his story was concluded there was much laughter
and approbation, particularly from two or three deputy alder-
men, who had been asleep the greater part of the time. There
was, however, one tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beet-
ling eye-brows, who maintained a grave and rather severe face
throughout; now and then folding his arms, inclining his head,
and looking down upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over
in his mind. He was one of your wary men, who never laugh
but upon good grounds -- when they have reason and the law
on their side. When the mirth of the rest of the company
had subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned one arm on
the elbow of his chair, and sticking the other a-kimbo, de-
manded, with a slight but exceedingly sage motion of the head,
and contraction of the brow, what was the moral of the story,
and what it went to prove.

The story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to
his lips, as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment,

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