96 WARWICK WOODLANDS. 



the small village noted for rum-drinking and quarter rac- 

 ing — high Pompton — thence by the Preakneas mountain, 

 and Mose Canouze's tavern — whereat, in honor of Tom's 

 friend, a worthy of the self -same kidney with himself, we 

 paused awhile — to Paterson, the filthiest town, situate on 

 one of the loveliest rivers in the world, and famous only 

 for the possession, in the person of its Catholic priest, of 

 the finest scholar and best fellow in America, whom we un- 

 luckily found not at home, and therefore tasted not, ac- 

 cording to friend Harry's promise, the splendid Innishow- 

 en which graces at all times his hospitable board. 



Eight o'clock brought us to Hoboken, where, by good 

 luck, the ferry boat lay ready — and nine o'clock had not 

 struck when we three sat down once again about a neat 

 small supper-table, before a bright coal fire, in Archer's 

 snuggery — Tom glorying in the prospect of the races on 

 the morrow, and I regretting that I had brought to its 

 conclusion 



MY FIRST WEEK IN THE WOODL-ANDS. 



