Volume 2 — NEW YORK.

ROCKAWAY.—A ROAD ADVENTURE.

Finding a hot day in New York on my arrival, I accompanied Mr. R——d and his lady to Rockaway, a fine beach on Long Island, and upon which a subscription hotel of enormous dimensions has this year been built.

At this palace of the sand-hills, outside of which nothing attractive is to be found save a breeze, I encountered many of my New York friends. The crowd was now thinned daily by departures; but if the persons who had departed were as agreeable as those yet remaining, and animated by a similar spirit of enjoyment, their absence was a serious loss. A spirit of sociability and good-humour seemed to prevail here; and the inducements for walking being limited to loose sand-hills, without the least shade, on a rough shingle beach, the fun was all reserved for the evening, when the inmates assembled in the drawing-room, where each contributed a quota; and music, conundrums, waltzing, a quadrille, or a Virginian reel, made a couple of hours literally fly away. Here, as in most of the watering-places of the country, early hours appeared a standing rule.

This house is well arranged, and the table exceedingly good. My stay was limited to three or four days, a circumstance I regretted the less on account of finding that most of my intimate acquaintance were returning to their homes.

On Sunday, September 14th, at two o'clock P.M., embarked on board the mail-boat for Amboy, taking with me a nag I had used as a saddle-hack throughout the summer months; my purpose being to ride through the country intervening between the Raritan and the Delaware rivers, as I had done on more than one occasion, but never before by the same route exactly which I now intended to pursue by way of changing the scene.

I found five horses on board the boat, bound for Bordenton races, and about five o'clock we were all landed at Amboy, whence I directly pushed on for my next stage, Hightstown. The road was a track of light white sand, and ran through a close dwarf forest, stocked with a fine growth of musquitoes, but having no one attraction to call for the halt of a minute. By half-past seven I had reached my quarters for the night; saw my horse well taken care of under the superintendence of a good-humoured Irish boy, who was ostler, and, as he informed me, deputy waiter, besides having a "power of other things to be doin';" next, partook of a comfortable supper, and, after a short walk about the village, to bed; my purpose being to reach Bordenton next morning by six o'clock, to take the early boat for Philadelphia.

About three o'clock A.M. I was roused by my host, who brought me a light. He had made a good guess at the time; but it would have been as well had he slept an hour or two later. My horse was soon got ready, and I set forward to feel my way, with an assurance that I had nothing to do but keep right a-head, the road being as straight as a hickory pole.

The morning was fine, but cold: the stars yet twinkled brightly; 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 do not think it would have been difficult to have made me doubt my own identity, so utterly bothered was I; but my informant was quite right, for, turning about, I entered the village for the third time this morning, just three hours after I took my first departure from it, during which I must have ridden at least twenty-four miles.

Not wanting to answer many questions, I alighted at the rival hotel, ordered breakfast, and looked at my horse's legs. I found the hair just rubbed off one knee, and that he was scratched on the other leg from the fetlock joint to the fore-arm, but nowhere badly cut. After a hasty breakfast I returned to the road, and got safely to my destination in time for the second boat. It was a blundering adventure, but served me with a hearty laugh when it was over; I must, however, have been a good deal bothered by my fall, or I should never have headed the wrong way, dark as it was. My left temple continued swollen for two or three days; and my horse was laid up for a month, the glands of his neck swelling, until a serious abscess was formed, owing to his having pitched with his head against the bank in falling. I narrowly inspected the place a few weeks after this morning, and only wonder both our necks were not broken.