102 THE JERSEY COAST. 
yond belief, and, following their prey relentlessly, 
compelled us to fight them off with bushes of bay- 
berry for our lives. 
Mosquitoes are found plentifully at our summer 
watering-places, and still more numerously in the 
wild woods, grow abundantly in Canada, and are 
over-plentiful at Lake Superior; but nowhere are 
they so merciless, fierce, and numerous, as, on occa- 
sions, at the New Jersey beach. They are a beauti- 
ful little creature, delicate, graceful, and elegant, 
but obtrusive in their attentions; although the 
ardent lover was anxious to be bitten by the same 
mosquito that had bitten his lady-love, that their 
blood might mingle in the same body. 
One good effect they had, however, was to com- 
pel the driver to urge on his weary team, and leave 
him no time to gossip at Jakey’s Tavern, over the 
beach party that was to be held there next day. A 
beach party is another delightful institution of the 
Jerseyites, and consists of a congregation of the 
youths of both sexes, especially the female, collected 
from the main shore, and meeting on the beach for 
a frolic, a dance, and a bath. As it rarely breaks 
up till daylight, the pleasantest intimacies are some- 
times formed, and soft words uttered that could not 
be wrung from blushing beauty in broad day. 
The establishment of the “old man’—the sporting 
“old man,” not the political one—since he has been 
gathered to his forefathers, is kept up by his son-in- 
law, usually known by the abbreviation—Bill. It 
is not an elegant place; sportsmen do not demand 
