as Fishkill Landing, which lies opposite to the place that gives this
part of the river its name.

Rupert now took the helm, and I went to sleep. The wind still
continued fresh and fair, and I felt no uneasiness on account of the
boat. It is true, there were two parts of the navigation before us of
which I had thought a little seriously, but not sufficiently so to
keep me awake. These were the Race, a passage in the Highlands, and
Tappan Sea; both points on the Hudson of which the navigators of that
classical stream were fond of relating the marvels. The first I knew
was formidable only later in the autumn, and, as for the last, I hoped
to enjoy some of its wonders in the morning. In this very justifiable
expectation, I fell asleep.

Neb did not call me until ten o'clock. I afterwards discovered that
Rupert kept the helm for only an hour, and then, calculating that from
five until nine were four hours, he thought it a pity the negro should
not have his share of the glory of that night. When I was awakened, it
was merely to let me know that it was time to eat something--Neb
would have starved before he would precede his young master in that
necessary occupation--and I found Rupert in a deep and pleasant sleep
at my side.

We were in the centre of Tappan, and the Highlands had been passed in
safety. Neb expatiated a little on the difficulties of the navigation,
the river having many windings, besides being bounded by high
mountains; but, after all, he admitted that there was water enough,
wind enough, and a road that was plain enough. From this moment,
excitement kept us wide awake. Everything was new, and everything
seemed delightful. The day was pleasant, the wind continued fair, and