It is called Princeton, in honour of its living founder, Judge Prince.[78]
We rode all day through thick smoke and fire, which sometimes met in pillar-like arches across the road, and compelled us to wait awhile, or turn aside. We passed only one comfortable abode, and three or four filthy one-room log-holes, surrounded by small patches, cleared samples of the bulk, which seems good land. I called at one of the three, a tavern, to beg for bread, but got none; only some whiskey. I saw a deer-lick, at which I dismounted and took a lick. The earth thus licked and excavated by many tongues, is of the colour of fuller's earth, not ill-flavoured, but a little salt and saponaceous, always attractive to the beasts of the forest.
At five o'clock, p. m., I reached the welcome abode of my Huntingdonshire friends, Mr. and Mrs. John Ingle,[79] who, together with their English maid-servant, Rebecca, and six children, rushed out to embrace and welcome their old friend, school-fellow, neighbour, and fellow-countryman, and great was the joy of our meeting.
Here I found good sweet bread, like the English, and hot corn-cake, and supped, on what I supposed {235} fine pork steaks. "This meat (said I to Mr. Ingle) is most delicious." "Well then, you like it, do you?" "I do indeed." "What do you think it is?" "Why, pork to be sure." "Well, we thought we would not tell you until after supper, lest you should fancy it was not good and refure to eat Bear." "Oh," said I, "if this be bear, give me bear for ever."
