planned known as the "Water Gate." A space of some one hundred feet parallel to the wall on the city side was set apart for the evolution of troops—within which limits no buildings were to be permitted.
During the month of April following, the city was in one perpetual fever of intense excitement and consternation. The scene along the site of Wall Street as the work went briskly forward was like an elongated bee-hive. The danger was imminent; and war not only threatened, but a scarcity of food through the interruption of trade in every direction. The consumption of grain by brewers and distillers was strictly forbidden, and an edict went forth that all tobacco planters must prepare to cultivate as many hillocks of corn as of tobacco in the near future. Stuyvesant was an experienced soldier, and manfully endeavored in the midst of the general terror to negotiate a treaty of commerce with Virginia, in which, however, he was only partially successful. The uncertainties of the situation rendered it depressing in the extreme. The Indians might be incited to desperate deeds; a revolt on Long Island was reasonably apprehended; Connecticut was known to be in the humor to march at any moment upon the little Dutch capital; and Boston was furious over the captured instructions of the West India Company to Stuyvesant, suggesting that he employ the Indians as allies in case of colonial war-trouble. Such was the atmosphere of insecurity and dismay on Manhattan Island that the ninth day of April was observed (throughout the province) in fasting and prayer. A week later some travelers from New England reported the story in full flower in that region that the Dutch had secretly hired the savages to massacre all the English people! Stuyvesant quickly wrote to the governors of New Haven and Massachusetts declaring the rumor a base fabrication, and offering to come to Boston in person and prove his innocence of any such horrible conspiracy. On the very day he penned these letters a scene was enacted in England of grave bearing upon the future of each of the American colonies. It was described by William Henry Montague in the following terse language.
"On the 20th of April, while the Commons were debating about disbanding the army, Cromwell went, attended by a detachment of chosen men, to the house, and having placed some of them at the door, some in lobby, and others on the stairs, he entered, followed by a number of officers, who were entirely at his command. Taking his seat, he for some time listened attentively to the debates. He then called Harrison, and told him that he now judged the Parliament ripe for a dissolution. Harrison replied, 'The work is very great and dangerous; I desire you to seriously consider before you engage in it.' 'You say well,' answered
