CHAPTER II.

Newark—noted for its fine breed of fat mosquitoes—sting through the thickest boots[21]—story about _Gallynippers_—Archy Gifford and his man Caliban—jolly fat fellows—a knowing traveller always judges of everything by the innkeepers and waiters[22]—set down Newark people all fat as butter—learned dissertation on Archy Gifford’s green coat, with philosophical reasons why the Newarkites wear red worsted nightcaps, and turn their noses to the south when the wind blows—Newark academy full of windows—sunshine excellent to make little boys grow—Elizabethtown—fine girls—vile mosquitoes—plenty of oysters—quere, have oysters any feeling?—good story about the fox catching them by his tail—ergo, foxes might be of great use in the pearl fishery—landlord member of the legislature—treats everybody who has a vote—mem. all the innkeepers members of the legislature in New Jersey; Bridge-town, vulgarly called _Spank-town_, from a story of quondam parson and his wife—real name, according to Linkum Fidelius, Bridge-town, from _bridge_, a contrivance to get dry shod over a river or brook; and _town_, an appellation given in America to the accidental assemblage of a church, a tavern, and a blacksmith’s shop—Linkum as right as my left leg;—Rahway River—good place for gun-boats—wonder why Mr. Jefferson don’t send a _river fleet_ here, to protect the hay vessels?—Woodbridge—landlady mending her husband’s breeches—sublime apostrophe to conjugal affection and the fair sex;[23]—Woodbridge famous for its crab-fishery—sentimental correspondence between a crab and a lobster—digression to Abelard and Eloisa;—mem. when the moon is in _Pisces_, she plays the devil with the crabs.