We remained but two hours at Philadelphia during which time the weather cleared away and we had a tolerably pleasant passage to Trenton. From there we rode on comfortably in the Stages until within six miles of New Brunswick when the Stage in which I happened to be in broke down, and as I did not admire the remedy for the evil in the shape of a rail, I transported myself to another of the Coaches, where I had the bad fortune to sit next to a man who was as drunk as a Lord.1 My situation was not the one which I should select as the most agreeable of my life but as the man was fortunately very little disposed to politics in his inebriety I consoled myself with thinking that the matter might have been worse. We arrived safe at New Brunswick, where we staid the night.