CHAPTER III.

Brunswick—oldest town in the State—division line between two counties in the middle of the street;—posed a lawyer with the case of a man standing with one foot in each county—wanted to know in which he was _domicil_—lawyer couldn’t tell for the soul of him;—mem. all the New Jersey lawyers _nums_;—Miss Hay’s boarding-school—young ladies not allowed to eat mustard—and why?—fat story of a mustard-pot, with a good saying of Ding-Dong’s;—Vernon’s tavern—fine place to sleep, if the noise would let you—another Caliban!—Vernon _slew_-eyed—people of Brunswick, of course, all squint;—Drake’s tavern—fine old blade—wears square buckles in his shoes—tells bloody long stories about last war—people, of course, all do the same;—Hook’em Snivy, the famous fortune-teller, born here—contemporary with Mother Shoulders—particulars of his history—died one day—lines to his memory, _which found their way into my pocket-book_;[24]—melancholy reflections on the death of great men—beautiful epitaph on myself.