The journey along the line of the New York Central from Montezuma to Newark, was an exciting one to me and _Paul_. I had long since learned that whenever the route brought us in close proximity with the railroad, the quiet pursuit of our way was often varied by exciting moments, owing to _Paul's_ suspicion of the "iron horse." The climax of these escapades was reached this morning, when _Paul_, becoming frightened by an approaching train repeated the experience of three days ago by plunging into a slough, about two miles from Newark, and completely covering himself and rider with mud. When I had recovered sufficiently to realize the situation, my thoughts were not as amiable, I fear, as those of Bunyan's good Christian, tried in like manner. The "slough of despond" was so very literal in this case. I had made every effort to control the excited animal, but found the attempt useless; and I verily believe if he were between the infernal regions and a coming train, he would choose the former at a bound. It was rather trying to appear before people of the town in such a lamentable condition, to say nothing of the discomforts arising from damp clothing; but there was no alternative, so I followed my course; the unfortunate victim of circumstances. Thirtieth Day. _Fairport House_, FAIRPORT, NEW YORK, _June Seventh_. Resumed march at eight o'clock in the morning, but the weather was so oppressively warm and sultry, that I was obliged to wait over from noon until six o'clock. Riding in the cool of the day was much more agreeable, yet, notwithstanding the physical comfort, I must confess that the lonely and unknown road gave rather a gloomy forecast to my thoughts. Beside this, I found some difficulty in obtaining necessary directions, and lost the chief charm of the journey--a view of the beautiful country through which I was passing. It had not been my intention to do any travelling after sundown unless the heat made it absolutely necessary, but in this instance I felt justified in changing the original plan. Moving along through the unfamiliar scenes, I missed the pleasant coloring of woods and fields under the broad light of day, the noisy hum the sunshine calls forth, and the sound of the birds, always the sweetest music to me. Instead of these there was the mystical silence of night, broken only by the clatter of _Paul's_ hoofs over the dusty road. Four hours' steady travel brought us in sight of the straggling lights of the little post-village of Fairport, where we stopped for the night. Found several Rochester papers awaiting me here, which contained pleasant reference to my proposed lecture at Corinthian Hall. CHAPTER IX. FOUR DAYS AT ROCHESTER.