I took Brown’s hand, applauded
  His generous care, and lauded
    Dobbs’ Ferry to the skies. 
  A shade came o’er his features,
  “We should be happy creatures,
    And this a paradise,
  But, ah! the deep disgrace is,
  This loveliest of places
    A vulgar name should blight! 
  But, death to Dobbs! we’ll change it,
  If money can arrange it,
    So, pleasant dreams; good night!”

  I could not sleep, but, raising
  The window, stood, moon-gazing,
    In fairyland a guest;
  “On such a night,” et cetera—­
  See Shakespeare for much better a
  Description of the rest,—­
  I mused, how sweet to wander
  Beside the river, yonder;
    And then the sudden whim
  Seized my head to pillow
  On Hudson’s sparkling billow,
    A midnight, moonlight swim!

  Soon thought and soon attempted;
  At once my room was emptied
    Of its sole occupant;
  The roof was low, and easily,
  In fact, quite Japanese-ily,
    I took the downward slant,
  Then, without stay or stopping,
  My first and last eaves-dropping,
    By leader-pipe I sped,
  And through the thicket gliding,
  Down the steep hillside sliding,
    Soon reached the river’s bed.

  But what was my amazement,—­
  The fair scene from the casement,
    How changed!  I could not guess
  Where track or rails had vanished,
  Town, villas, station, banished,—­
    All was a wilderness. 
  Only one ancient gable,
  A low-roofed inn and stable,
    A creaking sign displayed,
  An antiquated wherry,
  Below it—­“Dobbs his ferry”—­
    In the clear moonlight swayed.

  I turned, and there the craft was,
  Its shape ’twixt scow and raft was,
    Square ends, low sides, and flat,
  And standing close beside me,
  An ancient chap who eyed me,
    Beneath a steeple-hat;
  Short legs—­long pipe—­style very
  Pre-Revolutionary,—­
    I bow, he grimly bobs,
  Then, with some perturbation,
  By way of salutation,
    Says I, “How are you, Dobbs!”

  He grum and silent beckoned,
  And I, in half a second,
    Scarce knowing what I did,
  Took the stern seat, Dobbs throwing
  Himself ’midships, and rowing,
    Swift through the stream we slid;
  He pulled awhile, then stopping,
  And both oars slowly dropping,
    His pipe aside he laid,
  Drew a long breath, and taking
  An attitude, and shaking
    His fist towards shore, thus said:—­

  “Of all sharp cuts the keenest,
  Of all mean turns the meanest,
    Vilest of all vile jobs,
  Worse than the Cow-Boy pillagers,
  Are these Dobbs’ Ferry villagers
    A going back on Dobbs! 
  ’Twould not be more anom’lous
  If Rome went back on Rom’lus
    (Old rum-un like myself),
  Or Hail Columbia, played out
  By Southern Dixie, laid out
    Columbus on the shelf!