Impressions of America | Page 9

but their light did not suffice to make my way very clear to me; so I followed my directions implicitly, and for some time briskly. Unluckily, a sea of mist was to be passed as I went through the low grounds; and, whilst in this, I could not discern my horse's ears for the soul of me, notwithstanding that the punctuality of the steamer demanded that I should lose no time.
I had a good nag under me, however, and rattled on merrily enough, thinking to myself what a very priggish person it must have been who first promulgated the saying, that no wise traveller ever quits his hostel before the sun gets up, or remains out of it after the sun has gone to bed. "There were no steamers at six A.M. in those times," said I to myself, as I conned over the musty aphorism; "and travelling must have been done by this methodical person at a very slow pace." At this moment I heard the rattle of boards, and became aware that I was on a bridge: I instantly reined up, when, rattle! up tilts some loose plank, and in goes one of my nag's legs up to the shoulder. To fall back upon his haunches, make a rear up, and, in answer to a sharp blow of the spur, suddenly to bolt over something and into somewhere, was the action of a moment: in the tumble, that succeeded his leap, I got a couple of confounded hard raps on the side of the head, which convinced me I had not lighted among feathers.
My horse was either the most stunned or the most frightened, for I was first on my feet; and after scrambling up a hank below the end of the bridge, I made shift to urge my nag to get on his legs and regain the road.
My upper story was a good deal confused, but knowing there was no time to be lost, after ascertaining that the horse's knees were not broken, and that my bones though shaken were all whole, up I got and away we started, with a new, and, as it turned out, a bad departure. I congratulated myself on being so easily let off; for, had a plank turned on the middle of the bridge instead of the extremity, the forward spring of my horse would have precipitated us into the river, which was less desirable infinitely than the dry ditch down whose bank we had rolled.
On I pushed, and up got the day, slowly but, brightly enough: a spire appeared in view, and I considered myself at Bordenton; the village was quickly gained, but proved some place unknown to me. On I went, and about a quarter of an hour after saw a second spire. "Here we are in port at last, thank Heaven," said I, for never did sixteen miles appear so long to me: but no, all was yet strange, not a point could I recognise. At a moment when my perplexity was complete--for, though confused, I felt assured I had covered more than the ground lying between my harbours--I saw a man with a horse and cart leaving a yard upon some early errand: riding up to him therefore, I inquired,
"Pray, sir, how far is it to Bordenton?"
"Exactly eighteen miles," was the answer.
I conceived at first that my question was not rightly understood; therefore, to make all sure, reiterated the inquiry, adding, "I mean Bordenton, where Joseph Bonaparte lives."
"When he's there, you mean," says the man: "I guess I mean that too."
"Bordenton eighteen miles off!" ejaculated I. "My friend, it's not possible; either you or I must be a little mad!"
"I'm quite the contrary," observed my sharp-witted informant, "bein' uncommon sensible; I don't know how you feel about the head notwithstanding."
I now began to imagine he was quizzing me; therefore, in order to make him feel that my questions were urged in anything but a jesting spirit, I made known my object in taking the road thus early, and concluded by saying,
"I have been riding for two hours on the way to Bordenton, being but sixteen miles distant from it at starting; so how, my good friend, do you make it out?"
"Well, I don't know," was his reply, given in a most unsympathising sort of tone; "but I reckon you'll about double the distance if you ride for two hours more on this road, as you are now a-going."
"How so?" said I, "Is not this the road?"
"O yes! I guess it is, only you're looking towards the wrong ind on it, if you want to fetch Bordenton; but, maybe, you're bound for Amboy all the time, mister?"
"And where the devil is Hightstown?" said I.
"About two miles and a half behind you. I'm going there myself."
At this moment I