The coachman arrived in Chelsea promptly at 7:00 a.m.. The wife supervised loading food and gifts in the wagon’s boot, and, with the help of a footman, climbed aboard with her young child, bundled from the biting cold. Her husband took his place on the facing seat. The coachman cracked his whip. The horses, heads held high, livery polished and gleaming in the early morning light, started their journey.
“He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
It would take hours to cover the route on rutted roads, to wait for the Hell Gate Ferry in numbing biting cold, and the final muddy leg to their destination in Queens along Newtown Road to a location described today as on Hazen Street at Northern Boulevard where Woodside and Astoria meet.