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Updated: May 29, 2025
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.
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.
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 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."
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