86 



during the summer. We were much molested with musquetoes of a very 

 large size during our passage through it, soon after which we passed the 

 Passaic River and arrived at Newark, nine miles from New York." 



Miss Elizabeth Leslie. "A Picnic at the Seashore." 1835. 

 Squan, N. J. 



"The heat was now intolerable. Our hands were kept in perpetual motion, 

 defending ourselves, in vain, from the mosquitoes, the baby cried (as well 

 it might) and we all ceased to talk. Indeed talking had been forced work 

 for the last two hours." 



Newark Directory, 1856; 35-6 : 



"Newark— the town appears also to have early obtained the character 

 abroad of being an unhealthy place— subject to fever and agues and inter- 

 mittents, which is supposed to have retarded its growth." 



1855. Atlantic City. Heston's Hand Book: 



"Call it a sand patch, a desolation, a swamp, a mosquito territory, where 

 you cannot build a city — or if you could no one would go there. As late 

 as 1855 land sold there at $17.50 per acre. 1906, $30,000 per lot. 



"The Muskeeter" * 



JOSH BIEEINGS. 



Old Farmer's Allminax — 1870-7Q. 



Muskeeters are a game bug, but they wont bite at a hook. 

 There is millyuns of them caught every year, but not with a 

 hook, this makes the market for them unsteady, the supply 

 always exceeding the demand. 



The muskeeto is born On the sly, and comes to maturity quicker 

 than other of the domestic animals. A musketeer at three 

 hours old is just as ready, and anxious to go into business for 

 himself, as ever he is, and bites the first time as sharp, and 

 natural, as red pepper dust. 



The muskeeter has a good ear for music, and sings without 

 notes. The song of the muskeeto is monotonous to some folks, 

 but in me it stirs up the memories of other days. 



I have laid awake all night long, many a time and listened tr> 

 the sweet anthems of the "muskeeter." 



I am satisfied that thare want nothing made in vain, but I 

 can't keep thinking how mighty close the muskeeter came to it. 



The muskeeter has inhabited this world since its creation, and 

 will probably hang around here until business closes. Whare 

 the muskeeter goes to in the winter is a standing conundrum, 

 which all the naturalists have give up, but we know he don't 

 go far, for he is on hand early each year with his probe fresh 

 ground, and polished. Muskeeters must be one of the luxuries 

 of life— they certainly aint one of the necessities— not if we 

 know ourselves. 



