Up this morning soon after six, and crossed the North river in the ferry boat. The Irishmen stayed here all night also and the philosopher crossed when I did. He remained at New York, so that I was in hopes both had taken leave. I met the other again at Morse’s where I breakfasted, who informed me to my sorrow that he was going on, being the most disagreable by far of the two. I stayed in New York but about an hour and a half and had some conversation with Jaques the stagebook keeper, who soon smoked me and talked about the Presidential election, to fish, I suppose. Another man came to me and wanted me to take charge of some silver, to Boston as a great favour, but I treated the man with amazing harshness, as it does trouble me most exceedingly to have a person come importuning me to become responsible for any thing merely out of politeness. The poor fellow looked dumpish finding I persevered so I left him in statu quo.

There were about eight in the stage one of whom I had formerly met at Cambridge though I was not acquainted with him. He had been studying for admission to the Freshman Class. His name was Savage, from Philadelphia, a very wild fellow as I soon had experience.1 Up to all manner of mischief, he just sat down to quib a man sitting next to him then, a young city shop buck, who had, as it appeared, come out to some town in Connecticut, on a visit and to dash about, among his rustic friends. With him was another who appeared not much more or less than an ass. But very smart sharp 95fellows who evidently had considerable ideas of themselves. But they repelled Savage so he finally fixed on our friend the Irishman as the proper person to make extremely ridiculous.

Now it is impossible to conceive an uglier figure than this same man. Dirty to a great degree, he looked as if he had not undressed himself for three weeks, his face not washed for a month back. He wore a dirty blue dress, under a large red plaid cloak, his hair was a rusty black, and long uncombed, his beard full out, his face very red and very halting in his walk. With a remarkably shrill voice he told us, many ridiculous pedlar stories, using his brogue to great advantage. As he had been in that sort of business he was able to divert us by his experiences. Withal he was very shrewd indeed and could resist with success all the attacks of the student. In fact he retorted with such force as to put him word omitted rather to my joy than otherwise because I dislike to see a person condescend to press down a poor or an ignorant man by his wit, or in default of that by brass. The laugh being so often turned upon him, galled Savage to such a degree that at the approach of night he began a quarrel with him about seats, of the end of which I was doubtful. But the Irishman got somewhat the upper hand of him by his cool and collected behaviour. A young man is sure to disgrace himself by entering into quarrels with his inferiors particularly when he is in the wrong. To be a quib, No temper should be admitted. We were left alone one stage and Savage took the back seat. He however retracted so much of his first position as to allow the Irishman the seat every other stage.

We arrived at New Haven about eleven o’clock, and took supper there, the agreement of seats was broken up however by the entrance of two characters, whom I was not able to judge of until the morning. Sufficient to say that I took the whole of the middle seat and slept well.

The weather in the course of night became very bad and it was with great ill will that once I was forced to get out to hold the horses for the driver. We went on however pretty comfortably and arrived at Hartford in very good season for breakfast. The rivers were all very much overflowed and I was somewhat alarmed as the bridges on this road have occasioned a great many accidents. I breakfasted at Hartford, and when I came out to look for my trunk to have it put 96on, it was not to be found and I was put into a most tremendous alarm about it. No one had seen it and I was obliged to conclude it lost. After a moment’s hesitation, I nevertheless determined to go on as I could only be sure that in case it came I should get it and if it was stolen it would do me no good to stay. I was seized with the vapours though, as nothing of the kind had ever happened to me before and I had become quite negligent respecting it. Nothing was in the trunk of any value to any one but me. My journal was what I most mourned for, as I had lost an account which never could be repaired.1

My spirits were amazingly depressed and I felt like knocking down every body in the stage, this would have been a difficult task as there were eight besides myself. The light now enabled me to judge of the countenances and appearance of the newcomers. One who got in last night at New Haven was a rough old sailor who had met with a more severe misfortune than mine and still by his conduct gave me a lesson of patience. He had lost his ship, it being seized by the custom house, and was returning to Boston in the stage for the first time he said, in his life. Consequently at first he did not well understand the motion or the crowding. He became in good humour finally and laughed very heartily.

The remaining person who was remarkable in any degree was a man by the name of Gist, from Baltimore, a middling sized man with a round fat countenance appearing what he really was, a jolly loquacious animal. Indeed he was talkative to a most extravagant degree as he did not cease while I was in the stage. The day was rainy and stormy, and I was horribly blue, made more so by this man, who the more jolly he was the more I became angry. This could not last forever though, and I gradually felt my vexation worn away by the incessant attacks of the old crone. Story succeeded story and laugh succeeded laugh, he roaring himself to supply any deficiency in wit of his own. He was withal, a man who of all people was philanthropic to a great degree. He gave us his plans to benefit mankind, how he was to make them carriages and pairs and the Lord knows what besides. In fact he was a “facheux” to a most extravagant degree. Talking, talking, talking, and being good natured he endured rebuffs and continued talking if it was only to please himself. He told his stories and delighted in the witty turn which he was enabled to give his excuses in referring always to the Irishman or the sailor when a joke was related of either character. He gave me advice concerning my trunk most gratuitously, and said it had always been his plan 97to mind his own concerns, then argued religion with a universalist and so he went.

In the mean time the storm had increased with snow and hail. My nerves having been in a state of agitation, I felt unwell and stopped at Worcester, lucidly for I was quite sick in the evening. After which I immediately went to bed being much in need of rest.