. While drawing a load, a spent cannon ball
knocked off one of the wagon wheels, at which his little son Cornelius,
but eight years old, was so frightened that he never forgot it. The
schooner was crowded to excess with citizens and their families, all
eager to get away, and for fear they might sink her, Capt. Van Arsdale
was obliged to turn off some who applied for a passage. They left deeply
loaded, and in their haste were obliged to take with them a lot of
military stores which were on board. Arriving at Murdner's Creek, John,
at his father's request, and taking his brother Abraham, set out afoot
for Neelytown, to inform their brother Tunis of their arrival. The
journey of twelve miles seemed short, and ere long the well-known
farmhouse hove in sight, seated a little way back, and to which led a
lane between rows of young cherry trees, and near it on the road the
low, dusky smith-shop, with its _debris_ of cinders, old wheel-tires and
broken iron-work strewn about. Entering, as Tunis, with his back towards
them, stood at the forge heating his iron, and his assistant, Aleck
Bodle, lazily blowing the bellows, the first surprize was only
surpassed, when after hearty greetings, they imparted the startling news
of the capture of New York by the British, and that their father, having
barely escaped with his vessel, had arrived at the Creek. At once out
went the fire, and out went Tunis also to harness his horses, in order
to go and bring up the rest of the family; but on second thought, as the
day was far spent, he concluded to await the morrow. The next day there
was a joyous reunion at the farmhouse, but tempered with many sad
comments upon the doleful situation.

John spent the winter with his brother Tunis, aiding in farm work and at
the forge; he had just reached his majority, and found congenial spirits
in Alexander Bodle and Joseph Elder, then serving apprenticeships with
Tunis, and afterwards much respected residents of Orange County. Around
the evening fireside they indulged in many a joke, when laughter made
the welkin ring, or behind the well-fed pacer, were borne in the clumsy
box sled, with the gingle of merry bells, to the rustic frolic; but the
bounds of decorum were never exceeded, and lips which could tell all
about it, bore us pleasing witness to Van Arsdale's correct habits and
deportment at a stage of life so beset with syren snares for the unwary,
and which commonly moulds the character.

But neverthe