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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 176 [09-04-1851]

              who have appeared on this side of the Atlantic.)     Far on our right were
the tall, tree covered rocks by the river, open country in land.  Dust two
feet in depth in the roads.   Presently the sun sunk below the horizon, and
it grew cooler, as on we trudge.   Mason in battered Panama hat owned by
the juvenile Kidder, and not otherwise very disreputable looking, save in his
linen-less throat, thick close whisker and unshaven upper lip and chin stubbly look-
ing � decidedly a la Sikes.     I in the white wide brummer spoiled by the Staten
Island nocturnalizing, its brim all reversed like a soup-plate, as a sun
shade, my big coat carried over shoulder on the end of a rough stick, a
fearful mess of rents in the rear part of my pantaloons, and a pair of boots
into which, and out of, the road dust made way at pleasure; � all dusty
looking, brown booted and trousers turned up � on we go through the evening.
Partook of milk by the roadside, then in again, and wearily to Piermont,
where we arrived at 8.  No boat started till 12, wherefore we lay on the
platform of the depot an hour or so, and then Mason walked on down the long 
one-mile pier, and I, in company with a travelling Celt followed.  Aboard
the boat, there dozing uneasily on diver singular carriages,  in shape like the
upper part of a letter X, wrenched wider, and I supposed destined to remove
the multitudinous milk cans which at midnight were conveyed on board, from
the vessel.   Great to do, and the whole deck covered, and at about 12 1/2 or so,
off we start for New York, (Mason having abandoned his idea of another days
journeying.)     Found the cans accessible, and drank of the milk.   Up on the
top of the vessel, and at about two woke up from slumber on a lot of stools
by the arrival at New York.   Out, through the still streets, passing by
where Leonard Street brothels held joyless festival, as by the brawling and
lights inside we could hear, into Broadway.     Mason had not the key
of his door, so though he essayed to make his presence known by throwing
up stones against the lighted casement of his room, it was in vain, and he               
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