“Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous little villages in the vicinity of this most beautiful of cities, which are so many strongholds and fastnesses, whither the primitive manners of our Dutch forefathers have retreated, and where they are cherished with devout and scrupulous strictness.  The dress of the original settlers is handed down inviolate, from father to son:  the identical broad-brimmed hat, broad-skirted coat, and broad-bottomed breeches, continue from generation to generation; and several gigantic knee-buckles of massy silver are still in wear, that made gallant display in the days of the patriarchs of Communipaw.  The language likewise continues unadulterated by barbarous innovations; and so critically correct is the village schoolmaster in his dialect, that his reading of a Low-Dutch psalm has much the same effect on the nerves as the filing of a handsaw.”

     [Footnote 1:  Pavonia in the ancient maps, is given to a tract
     of country extending from about Hoboken to Amboy.]

The early prosperity of this settlement is dwelt on with satisfaction by the author:—­

“The neighboring Indians in a short time became accustomed to the uncouth sound of the Dutch language, and an intercourse gradually took place between them and the new-comers.  The Indians were much given to long talks, and the Dutch to long silence;—­in this particular, therefore, they accommodated each other completely.  The chiefs would make long speeches about the big bull, the Wabash, and the Great Spirit, to which the others would listen very attentively, smoke their pipes, and grunt yah, mynher,—­whereat the poor savages were wondrously delighted.  They instructed the new settlers in the best art of curing and smoking tobacco, while the latter, in return, made them drunk with true Hollands,—­and then taught them the art of making bargains.

“A brisk trade for furs was soon opened; the Dutch traders were scrupulously honest in their dealings and purchased by weight, establishing it as an invariable table of avoirdupois, that the hand of a Dutchman weighed one pound, and his foot two pounds.  It is true, the simple Indians were often puzzled by the great disproportion between bulk and weight, for let them place a bundle of furs, never so large, in one scale, and a Dutchman put his hand or foot in the other, the bundle was sure to kick the beam;—­never was a package of furs known to weigh more than two pounds in the market of Communipaw!

“This is a singular fact,—­but I have it direct from my great-great-grandfather, who had risen to considerable importance in the colony, being promoted to the office of weigh-master, on account of the uncommon heaviness of his foot.

“The Dutch possessions in this part of the globe began now to assume a very thriving appearance, and were comprehended under the