CHAPTER XXI.

JAMES SMITH,OF HENRY.

It is probable that the manufacturer referred to in the above was George Black, as that gentleman made “tobies” in Washington at an early day, and continued in the business for many years, and until he became quite wealthy. In his later days his trade was very large and profitable. Old wagoners hauled his “tobies” over the road in large quantities, as they did subsequently the Wheeling “tobies,” which were, and continued to be, a favorite brand. Many habitual smokers prefer a Washington or a Wheeling “toby” to an alleged fine, highpriced cigar, and the writer of these lines is one of them. As has been noted, the “rubber,” called brake at this day, was not in use when the National Road was first thrown open for trade and travel. Instead, as related by John Deets, sapplings, cut at the summit of the hills, were shaped and fashioned to answer the ends of the “rubber,” and at the foot of the hills taken off and left on the roadside. E. B. Dawson, esq., the well known, well posted and accurate antiquarian of Uniontown, and, by the way, deeply interested in the history of the National Road, is authority for the statement that one Jones, of Bridgeport, Fayette county, Pennsylvania, claimed to be the inventor of the “rubber.” He, however, never succeeded in obtaining letters patent, if, indeed, he ever applied. There were other claimants, among them the Slifers, of Maryland, mentioned elsewhere in these pages. The real and true inventor seems to be unknown, and yet it is an invention of vast importance, and with legal protection would have yielded the inventor an immense fortune.

Old wagoners, as a class, were robust, hardy, honest and jovial. But one of the long list is remembered as a criminal. His name was Ben Pratt, and he belonged to Philadelphia. He turned out to be a counterfeiter of coin and currency, and suffered the punishment that all counterfeiters deserve. Many old wagoners were fond of fun and frolic, but very few of them were intemperate, although they had the readiest opportunities for unrestrained drinking. Every old tavern had its odd shaped little bar, ornamented in many instances with fancy lattice work, and well stocked with whiskey of the purest distillation, almost as cheap as water. In fact all kinds of liquors were kept at the old taverns of the National Road, except the impure stuff of the present day. The bottles used were of plain glass, each marked in large letters with the name of the liquor it contained, and the old landlord would place these bottles on the narrow counter of the little bar, in the presence of a room filled with wagoners, so that all could have free access to them. None of the old tavern keepers made profit from the sales of liquor. They kept it more for the accommodation of their guests, than for money making purposes. There was probably a tavern on every mile of the road, between Cumberland and Wheeling, and all combined did not realize as much profit from the sales of liquor in a year as is realized in that time by one licensed hotel keeper of Uniontown, at the present day.

When, at last, the Conestoga horse yielded up the palm to the Iron horse, and it became manifest that the glory of the old road was departing, never to return, the old wagoners, many of whom had spent their best days on the road, sang in chorus the following lament:

“Now all ye jolly wagoners, who have got good wives,Go home to your farms, and there spend your lives.When your corn is all cribbed, and your small grain is good,You’ll have nothing to do but curse the railroad.”

“Now all ye jolly wagoners, who have got good wives,

Go home to your farms, and there spend your lives.

When your corn is all cribbed, and your small grain is good,

You’ll have nothing to do but curse the railroad.”

Stage Drivers, Stage Lines and Stage Coaches—The Postilion—Changing Horses—He comes, the Herald of a Noisy World—Pioneer Proprietors—Peter Burdine and his Little Rhyme—Anecdote of Thomas Corwin—Johny Ritter—Daniel Brown, his sad Ending—Soldier Drivers—Redding Bunting—Joseph and William Woolley—Andrew J. Wable—James Burr.

“My uncle rested his head upon his hands and thought of the busy bustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the old coaches, and were now as silent and changed; he thought of the numbers of people to whom once, those crazy, mouldering vehicles had borne, night after night, for many years, and through all weathers, the anxiously expected intelligence, the eagerly looked for remittance, the promised assurances of health and safety, the sudden announcement of sickness and death. The merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the school boy, the very child who tottered to the door at the postman’s knock—how had they all looked forward to the arrival of the old coach! And where were they all now?”—Charles Dickens.

STAGE COACH

Stage drivers as a class did not rank as high morally as wagoners, but despite this there were among them men of good sense, honest intentions and steady habits. As typical of the better class, the reader who is familiar with the old road will readily recall Redding Bunting, Samuel Luman, Elliott Seaburn, Watty Noble, James Carroll, Aquila and Nat Smith, William Scott, David Gordon, James Burr, William Robinson, John Huhn, David Bell, John Guttery, John Ritter, Joseph Henderson and Peter Null. Others will be instantly recognized as their names shall appear on these pages. It is the sincere belief of all old pike boys that the stage lines of the National Road were never equalled in spirit and dash on any road, in any age or country. The chariots of the Appian Way, drawn by the fastest horses of ancient Italy, formed a dismal cortege in comparison with the sprightly procession of stage coaches on the old American highway. The grandeur of the old mail coach is riveted forever in the memory of the pike boy. To see it ascending a long hill, increasing speed, when nearing the summit, then moving rapidly over the intervening level to the top of the next hill, and dashing down it, a driver like the stately Redding Bunting wielding the whip and handling the reins, revealed a scene that will never be forgotten. And there was anotherfeature of the old stage lines that left a lasting mark on memory’s tablet. It was the “Postilion.” A groom with two horses was stationed at the foot of many of the long hills, and added to the ordinary team of four horses to aid in making the ascent. The summit gained, the extra horses were quickly detached and returned to await and aid the next coming coach, and this was the “Postilion.” Nathan Hutton is a well remembered old postilion. He was a tall, spare man, and lived in a small log house on the roadside, a short distance west of the old Johnson tavern, and four and a half miles east of Brownsville. At the foot of the hill below his house, he re-enforced the coaches with his postilion both ways, east and west, up Colley’s hill, going west, and the equally long hill, coming east from that point. When he wanted a man or horse to be faithful to duty he exhorted him to “stand by his ’tarnal integrity.” The old postilion bade adieu to the scenes of earth long ago, and nothing is left to indicate the spot where his lowly dwelling stood except a few perishing quince bushes.

Hanson Willison, of Cumberland, when a boy rode postilion for Samuel Luman, and for Alfred Bailes. John Evans and Jacob Hoblitzell rode postilion through the mountains, east of Keyser’s Ridge. Martin Massey rode out from Brownsville, and Thomas M. Fee, now crier of the courts of Fayette county, Pennsylvania, rode out from Uniontown, over Laurel Hill.

Excitement followed in the wake of the coaches all along the road. Their arrival in the towns was the leading event of each day, and they were so regular in transit that farmers along the road knew the exact hour by their coming, without the aid of watch or clock. They ran night and day alike. Relays of fresh horses were placed at intervals of twelve miles, as nearly as practicable. Ordinarily a driver had charge of one team only, which he drove and cared for. Mail drivers, however, in many instances, drove three or four teams and more, which were cared for by grooms at the stations. Teams were changed almost in the twinkling of an eye. The coach was driven rapidly to the station, where a fresh team stood ready harnessed and waiting on the roadside. The moment the team came to a halt the driver threw down the reins, and almost instantly the incoming team was detached, the fresh one attached, the reins thrown back to the driver, who did not leave his seat, and away again went the coach at full speed, the usual group of loafers, meanwhile, looking on and enjoying the exciting scene. The horses used were showy and superb, the admiration of all who beheld them. Mr. Stockton had a strain called the “Murat,” and another known as the “Winflower,” which have become extinct, but many expert horsemen contend that they have not, in later days, been surpassed for nerve, beauty or speed. A peculiar affliction came upon many of the “wheel horses,” expressed by the phrase “sprung in the knees.” It is said to have been produced by the efforts of the horses in “holding back,” while descending the long and steep hills.

There was one mail coach that was especially imposing. On its gilded sides appeared the picture of a post boy, with flying horse and horn, and beneath it in gilt letters this awe inspiring inscription:

“He comes, the herald of a noisy world,News from all nations lumbering at his back.”

“He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

News from all nations lumbering at his back.”

No boy who beheld that old coach will ever forget it. The coaches were all handsomely and artistically painted and ornamented, lined inside with soft silk plush. There were three seats furnished with luxurious cushions, and three persons could sit comfortably on each, so that nine passengers made a full load as far as the interior was concerned. A seat by the side of the driver was more coveted in fair weather than a seat within. During the prosperous era of the road it was not uncommon to see as many as fifteen coaches in continuous procession, and both ways, east and west, there would be thirty each day.

James Kinkead, Jacob Sides and Abraham Russell put on the first line of passenger coaches west of Cumberland, and as early as 1818 John and Andrew Shaffer, Garrett Clark, Aaron Wyatt, Morris Mauler, John Farrell, Quill and Nathan Smith, and Peter Null, were drivers on this line. The Smiths and Null drove in and out from Uniontown. One of the Smiths subsequently became the agent of a stage line in Ohio. James Kinkead, above mentioned, was the senior member of the firm of Kinkead, Beck and Evans, who built most of the large stone bridges on the line of the road. This early line of stages was owned and operated in sections. Kinkead owned the line from Brownsville to Somerfield; Sides, from Somerfield to the Little Crossings, and thence to Cumberland Russell was the proprietor. Kinkead sold his section to George Dawson, of Brownsville, and Alpheus Beall, of Cumberland, bought out Russell’s interest. This line was subsequently purchased by, and merged in, the National Road Stage Company, the principal and most active member of which was Lucius W. Stockton. The other members of this company were Daniel Moore, of Washington, Pennsylvania, Richard Stokes and Moore N. Falls, of Baltimore, and Dr. Howard Kennedy, of Hagerstown, Maryland. After the death of Mr. Stockton, in 1844, Dr. Kennedy and Mr. Acheson were the active members of the firm. John W. Weaver put a line of stages on the road at an early day, known as the People’s Line. After a short run it was withdrawn from the road east of Wheeling, and transferred to the Ohio division. Previous to 1840, James Reeside put on a line which Mr. Stockton nick-named the “June Bug,” for the reason, as he alleged, it would not survive the coming of the June bugs. Mr. Stockton subsequently bought out this line and consolidated it with his own. There was a line of stages on the road called the “Good Intent,” which came to stay, and did stay until driven off by the irresistible force of the Steam King. This line was owned by Shriver, Steele & Company, and was equal in vim, vigor and general equipment to the Stockton line. The headquartersof the Good Intent line at Uniontown was the McClelland house. There passengers took their meals, and the horses were kept in the stables appurtenant. The “old line” (Stockton’s) had its headquarters at the National house, on Morgantown street, now the private residence of that worthy and well known citizen, Thomas Batton. This littlebon motis one among a thousand, illustrative of the spirit of the competition between these rival lines. There was one Peter Burdine, a driver on the Good Intent line, noted for his dashing qualities, who was accustomed to give vent to his fidelity to his employers, and his confidence in himself in these words:

“If you take a seat in Stockton’s line,You are sure to be passed by Pete Burdine.”

“If you take a seat in Stockton’s line,

You are sure to be passed by Pete Burdine.”

And this became a popular ditty all along the road.

On authority of Hanson Willison, the old stage driver of Cumberland, the first line of stages put on the road east of Cumberland, in opposition to the Stockton line, was owned, from Frederic to Hagerstown, by Hutchinson and Wirt; from Hagerstown to Piney Plains, by William F. Steele; from Piney Plains to Cumberland, by Thomas Shriver.

Thomas Corwin, the famous Ohio statesman and popular orator of the olden time, was not a stage driver, but he was a wagoner, and one of the rallying cries of his friends, in the campaign that resulted in his election as governor, was: “ Hurrah for Tom Corwin, the wagoner boy.” The introduction of his name, in connection with stages and stage drivers, becomes pertinent in view of the following anecdote: Corwin was of very dark complexion, and among strangers, and in his time, when race distinction was more pronounced than now, often taken for a negro. On one occasion, while he was a member of Congress, he passed over the road in a “chartered coach,” in company with Henry Clay, a popular favorite all along the road, and other distinguished gentlemen, en route for the capital. A chartered coach was one belonging to the regular line, but hired for a trip, and controlled by the parties engaging it. The party stopped one day for dinner at an old “stage tavern,” kept by Samuel Cessna, at the foot of “Town Hill,” also known as “Snib Hollow,” twenty-five miles east of Cumberland. Cessna was fond of entertaining guests, and particularly ardent in catering to distinguished travelers. He was, therefore, delighted when this party entered his house. He had seen Mr. Clay before, and knew him. The tall form of Mr. Corwin attracted his attention, and he noted specially his swarthy complexion, heard his traveling companions call him “Tom,” and supposed he was the servant of the party. The first thing after the order for dinner was a suggestion of something to relieve the tedium of travel, and excite the appetite for the anticipated dinner, and it was brandy, genuine old cogniac, which was promptly brought to view by the zealous old landlord. Brandy was the “tony” drink of the old pike—brandy and loaf sugar, and it was often lighted by a taper and burnt, underthe influence of a popular tradition that “if burnt brandy couldn’t save a man” in need of physical tension, his case was hopeless. When the brandy was produced, the party, with the exception of Corwin, stepped up to the bar and each took a glass. Corwin, to encourage the illusion of the old landlord, stood back. In a patronizing way the landlord proffered a glass to Corwin, saying: “Tom, you take a drink.” Corwin drank off the glass, and in an humble manner returned it to the landlord with modest thanks. Dinner was next announced, and when the party entered the dining room, a side table was observed for use of the servant, as was the custom at all old taverns on the road at that time. Corwin, at once recognizing the situation, sat down alone at the side table, while the other gentlemen occupied the main table. The dinner was excellent, as all were at the old taverns on the National Road, and while undergoing discussion, Mr. Clay occasionally called out to the lone occupant of the side table: “How are you getting on, Tom?” to which the modest response was, “Very well.” After dinner the old landlord produced a box of fine cigars, and first serving the distinguished guests, took one from the box and in his hand proffered it to Mr. Corwin, with the remark: “Take a cigar, Tom?” When it was announced that the coach was in readiness to proceed on the journey, Mr. Clay took Corwin’s arm, and, approaching the old landlord, said: “Mr. Cessna, permit me to introduce the Hon. Thomas Corwin, of Ohio.” Cessna was thunder-struck. His mortification know no bounds. Observing his mental agony, Mr. Corwin restored him to equanimity by saying: “It was all a joke, Mr. Cessna; do not, I beg you, indulge in the slightest feeling of mortification. I expect to be back this way before long, and will call again to renew acquaintance, and take another good dinner with you.”

John Ritter, affectionately and invariably, by his acquaintances, called “Johnny,” was noted for his honesty and steady habits. For many years after staging ceased on the road, he was a familiar figure about Washington, Pennsylvania. He assisted Major Hammond for thirty years in conducting the Valentine house, and acted as agent for Brimmer’s line of mail hacks, and other similar lines, after the great mail and passenger lines were withdrawn. He was a bachelor, and a soldier of 1812, and drew a small pension. He died at the Valentine house, in Washington, on January 28th, 1879, in the eightieth year of his age, leaving behind him a good name and many friends.

The first line of passenger coaches put on the road between Brownsville and Wheeling was owned, organized and operated by Stephen Hill and Simms and Pemberton. This was in 1818, and a continuation of the early line before mentioned from Cumberland to Brownsville. Stephen Hill, while a stage proprietor, was also a tavern keeper in Hillsboro, Washington county, a small town, but an old town, which probably derived its name from his family. Under the inspiration of modern reformation, so called, the name of this old town has been changed and languishes now under the romantic appellation of Scenery Hill. When it was Hillsboro, and a stage stationof the old pike, it was a lively little town. Under its present picturesque name it remains a little town, but not a lively one. The change of name, however, has not yet penetrated the thinned ranks of the old pike boys, and they still refer to it as Hillsboro.

WILLIAM WHALEY.

The next station west of Hillsboro, where stage horses were changed, twelve miles distant, was Washington, where passengers also took meals. The Good Intent line stopped at the Mansion house, situate at the upper end of the town, and the “Old Line” stopped at the National, in the lower end. The next changing place west of Washington was Claysville, the next Roneys Point, and thence to Wheeling. About the year 1846 the Good Intent line stopped its coaches, or a portion of them, at the Greene house in Washington, kept by Daniel Brown, who, previous to that date, had, for a time, been a road agent of that line. Of all the good taverns on the road there were none better than Brown’s. He had his peculiarities, as most men have, but he knew how to keep a hotel. He enjoyed the occupation of entertaining guests, and glowed with good feeling while listening to the praises bestowed upon his savory spreads. This popular old landlord came to a sad and untimely end by being cut to pieces in a mill by a buzz saw, on what was once called the plank road, leading from Washington through Monongahela City, West Newton, Mt. Pleasant, Somerset and Bedford to Cumberland. Stages ran on that road, and at the time of the accident, Mr. Brown was in the service of a stage company and at the saw mill to urge forward the work of getting out plank for the road.

David Sibley, an old driver on Stockton’s line, went with the Fayette county “boys in blue” to Mexico in 1847, a member of Co. H, 2d regiment of Pennsylvania volunteers. He participated in the engagement at Cerro Gordo, emerged from that conflict unscathed, but died soon after at Pueblo from ailments incident to an inhospitable climate.

William Whaley, a soldier of the war between the States, and a son of Capt. James Whaley, a soldier of 1812, was an old stage driver. He was born in Connellsville, but spent the prime of his life in Uniontown, and on the road. He used to tell the boys that one of the horses of his team died coming down Laurel Hill, but that he held him up until he reached the McClelland house in Uniontown. Whaley drove for a time on the Morgantown route from Uniontown, and died in the latter place twenty years and more ago.

James Turner, a Somerset county man, an old stage driver, also volunteered as a soldier in the Mexican war, and started out a member of Co. H, above mentioned. In crossing the Gulf he fell down a hatchway of the vessel and was killed, and the mortal remains of the old driver were buried in the deep sea.

James Gordon, a well remembered old stage driver, went with Co. H to Mexico, and died in the capital city of that Republic. He was the father-in-law of Peter Heck, a former postmaster of Uniontown.

Samuel Sibley, probably a brother of David, before mentioned, was a well-known driver. He was small in stature, but alert in movement. It was he who drove the coach that upset on a stone pile in the main street of Uniontown with Henry Clay as a passenger, the details of which have elsewhere been given.

Ben Showalter is remembered as an old driver, who sang little songs and performed little tricks of legerdemain for the amusement of the boys. He went to the war between the States as a private in Major West’s cavalry of Uniontown, and died in the service.

REDDING BUNTING.

Redding Bunting, mentioned before, was probably more widely known and had more friends than any other old stage driver on the road. His entire service on the road, covering many years, was in connection with the “old Line.” He was a great favorite of Mr. Stockton, the leading proprietor of that line. His commanding appearance is impressed upon the memories of all who knew him. He stood six feet six inches high in his stockings, and straight as an arrow, without any redundant flesh. His complexion was of a reddish hue and his features pronounced and striking. His voice was of the baritone order, deep and sonorous, but he was not loquacious and had a habit of munching. He was endowed with strong common sense, which the pike boys called “horse sense,” to emphasize its excellence. He was affable, companionable and convivial. He was a native of Fayette county, Pa., and born in Menallen township. He was not only a stage driver, but a trusted stage agent, stage proprietor, and also a tavern keeper. He once owned the property now known as the “Central Hotel,” in Uniontown, and if he had retained it would have died a rich man. Despondency and depression of spirits seemed to have encompassed him, when business ceased on the road, and he appeared as one longing for the return of other and better days. During the presidency of Mr. Van Buren, it was deemed desirable by the authorities that one of his special messages should be speedily spread before the people. Accordingly arrangements were made by the Stockton line, which had the contract for carrying the mails, to transmit the message of the President with more than ordinary celerity. The Baltimore and Ohio railroad at the time was not in operation west of Frederic City, Maryland. Mr. Bunting, as agent of the company, repaired to that point to receive the coming document and convey it to Wheeling. He sat by the side of the driver the entire distance from Frederic to Wheeling to superintend the mission and urge up the speed. The distance between the points named is two hundred and twenty-two miles, and was covered in twenty-three hours and thirty minutes. Changes of teams and drivers were made at the usual relays, and the driver who brought the flying coach from Farmington to Uniontown was Joseph Woolley, who made the sparks fly at every step, as he dashed down the long western slope of Laurel Hill. Homer Westover drove the coach from Uniontown to Brownsville, covering the intervening distance of twelve miles in the almost incredible compass of forty-four minutes.The coach used on this occasion was called the “Industry,” one of the early mail coaches with “monkey box” attachment, and it literally woke up the echoes in its rapid transit over the road. The PittsburgGazettehad arranged for an early copy of the important message and agreed to pay Robert L. Barry and Joseph P. McClelland, of Uniontown, connected in various subordinate capacities with the stage lines, the sum of fifty dollars for a speedy delivery of the document at the office of that journal in Pittsburg. Brownsville was then the distributing point for all mail matter sent west over the National Road, consigned to Pittsburg, and Barry and McClelland went down to Brownsville on the “Industry” to obtain the message there and transmit it thence to Pittsburg by special convoy overland to theGazette; but when the mail was opened it was discovered that it did not contain a package for theGazette, and Barry and McClelland returned home disappointed, while theGazettesuffered still greater disappointment in not being able to lay an early copy of the message before its readers. The reader will bear in mind that at the time referred to the telegraph was unknown as an agency for transmitting news, and the railroad, as has been seen, had not advanced west of Frederic City, Maryland.

In the year 1846, after the railroad was completed to Cumberland, Redding Bunting rivaled, if he did not surpass, the feat of rapid transit above described. He drove the great mail coach from Cumberland to Wheeling, which carried the message of President Polk, officially proclaiming that war existed between the United States and Mexico. Leaving Cumberland at two o’clock in the morning, he reached Uniontown at eight o’clock of the same morning, breakfasted there with his passengers, at his own house (for he was then the proprietor of the National), and after breakfast, which was soon disposed of, proceeded with his charge, reaching Washington at elevenA. M.and Wheeling at twoP. M., covering a distance of one hundred and thirty-one miles in twelve hours. He was not at that time an ordinary driver, but an agent of the line, and took the reins in person for the avowed purpose of making the highest speed attainable. Redding Bunting has been dead about ten years. His wife, who was a daughter of Capt. Endsley, the old tavern keeper at the Big Crossings, survived him about three years. He left two sons and two daughters. One of his sons, Henry Clay, is at present postmaster of Dunbar, Pa., and the other, William, is a printer, and at this writing foreman of the composing force of the PittsburgTimes. One of the daughters is the wife of Milton K. Frankenberry, a prominent citizen of Fayette county, Pa., and the other is the wife of Armor Craig, a leading merchant of Uniontown. The old driver has gone to his last home, but his memory remains fresh and fragrant all along the road.

Joseph Woolley, above mentioned, had a brother, William, who was also a well known stage driver. When the staging days on the road were ended, and the exciting incidents thereof relegated to thedomain of history, Joseph and William Woolley sought and obtained employment in the service of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad company, and both ultimately became competent and trustworthy locomotive engineers.

Andrew J. Wable commenced driving stage in 1840, and continued uninterruptedly until 1851. He went to Illinois in 1867, and is still living, in good health and spirits. He frequently visits his old home in the mountains of Fayette county, where he was reared, and is there now, or was very recently. He drove first on the “Shake Gut,” which was not a passenger line, but a line put on the road to carry light freights with rapidity. He drove next on the “Good Intent” line, and subsequently on the old, or Stockton line. He was a driver on the Good Intent line when William Scott was its agent, and on the old line during the agencies of Granger and Bunting. He drove on the Good Intent line from Somerfield to Keyser’s Ridge, and on the old line from Keyser’s Ridge to Piney Grove. He also drove between Washington and Wheeling, and from Uniontown to Farmington. His recollections of the old road are vivid, and he is fond of recounting incidents of its palmy days.

James Burr drove out westward from Washington. He was reputed to be a man of great muscular power, but with it all, a man of quiet demeanor. A Cincinnati man, name not given, had achieved the reputation of “licking” everybody in and around Cincinnati, and like Alexander of old, sighed for more victories. Hearing of Jim Burr, he resolved to encounter him, and struck out for Claysville, where he had been informed Burr could be found. He traveled by steamboat to Wheeling, thence by stage coach to Claysville. The Cincinnati man “put up” at the tavern of William Kelley, the stopping place of Burr’s line at Claysville. Upon entering, the stranger inquired for Jim Burr, and was politely informed by Mr. Kelley, the old landlord, that Mr. Burr was at the stable looking after his team, and would soon be in. In a little while Burr came in, and Mr. Kelley remarked to the stranger, “this is Mr. Burr.” The stranger, who was a somewhat larger man than Burr, saluted him thus: “Burr, I have been told that you are the best man in all this country, and I have come all the way from Cincinnati to fight you, and lick you, if I can.” “Well,” said Burr, “you have come a long distance for a job like that, and besides I don’t know you, and there is no reason why we should fight.” “But,” rejoined the stranger, “you must fight me, I insist on it, and will not leave here until you do.” Burr persisted in declining the proffered combat, and finally went upstairs to bed, and after a nap of half an hour’s duration, came down without a thought of again meeting his aggressive visitor. To his utter surprise the Cincinnati bluffer met him at the foot of the stairs, and again demanded a trial of strength. This was more than Burr’s good nature could withstand, and stepping back, he drew up in the attitude of a striker, warning his assailant at the same time to “look out,” when with one blow of his fist, he felled him stone dead on the floor.Burr then went to the water stand in a rear room of the tavern, washed his face and hands, and upon returning saw the victim of his deadly blow still lying prostrate upon the floor, and exclaimed: “My God, has that man not got up yet?” But the vanquished bully did, after a while, get up, and in rising discovered that he was a wiser, if not a better man. News of this singular encounter spread rapidly through the town of Claysville, and nearly every inhabitant thereof rushed to the scene to learn how it happened, and all about it. The facts were minutely and carefully made known to all inquirers by William Kelley, the old landlord, and cheers went up and out for Jim Burr, the hero of Claysville. At the time of this occurrence David Gordon was also driving out westwardly from Washington. Tradition has it that these two men had a reciprocal fear of each other, but they never collided, and it is a mooted question as to which of them was the better man in a physical sense. It is a long time since Burr and Gordon were seen on the front boot of a handsome Concord coach, wielding the reins and flourishing the whip over the backs of four dashing steeds with a grace and dignity befitting a more pretentious calling; and presumably they have answered the last summons, but living or dead, their names are indelibly stamped on the history of the National Road.

David Gordon was sent out from the east by James Reeside, and drove first on the “June Bug Line.” Going out west from Claysville soon after he commenced driving his team ran off, with a full load of passengers. Discerning in a moment that the flying team could not be checked by ordinary methods, he pulled it off the road and turned the coach over against a high bank. The passengers were badly frightened, but none were hurt, and attributed their escape from injury to the skillfulness of the driver. After “righting up,” the coach but little damaged, proceeded to Roney’s Point without further casualty. This incident, or rather accident, gave Gordon a wide reputation as a cool and skillful driver, and he rapidly advanced to the front rank of his calling. The “June Bug Line” did not remain long on the road, and when it was withdrawn Gordon took service in the Good Intent line, and continued with it until all through lines of coaches were taken from the road. Gordon was a very stout man, six feet in height, and weighing about two hundred pounds, without any surplus flesh. It was said that he could fight, but was not quarrelsome. His motto seemed to be “non tangere mihi.” On one occasion, as tradition has it, he was compelled to engage in a knock-down, in self defense. It was at Triadelphia, Virginia. Three “toughs” fell upon him at that place, with the intention, as they stated it, of “doing him up,” but they failed ignominously. Gordon repulsed and routed them completely and decisively, and they never thereafter coveted a rencounter with Gordon, and the example of their fate rendered others with pugilistic proclivities a little shy about encountering him.

Stages and Stage Drivers continued—Character of Drivers Defended—Styles of Driving—Classification of Drivers—Samuel Luman, old mail driver—His thrilling encounter with Robbers—George Fisher dashes into a Whig procession—Daniel Leggett—Accident to Black Hawk—Tobias Banner, Jerry McMullin, George McKenna, Paris Eaches, Jack Bailiss, Henry A. Wise, and other familiar names.

Mr. A. J. Endsley, of Somerset, an intelligent, educated and observing gentleman, who was born and reared on the National Road, gives it as his judgment that old stage drivers, as a class, were better, morally, than old wagoners. He says that while some of the stage drivers were given to blaspheming and drinking, there were wagoners who would “discount them, especially in the matter of profanity.” He names, as types of orderly, well behaved stage drivers, Thomas Grace, William and Alexander Thompson, John Mills, Charley Howell, John High, William Robinson, Isaac Frazee (still living in Markleysburg), Isaac Denny, Samuel Halsted, William White, Samuel Jaco, Thomas Moore, James A. Carroll, William Bishop and John Bunting. William Robinson and Pate Sides were expert penmen.

John E. Reeside, a son of Commodore James Reeside, the old stage proprietor, now residing in Baltimore, who had a general supervision of his father’s lines on the National Road, gives three styles of stage driving, as follows, viz: (1) The Flat Rein (English); (2) the Top and Bottom (Pennsylvania); (3) the Side Rein (Eastern). In the first style Mr. Reeside says that John Bennett and Watty Noble excelled, and in the second, Jack Bailiss, Frank Lawson and Joe Bowers carried off the palm. He adds that the third mode was the one adopted by a majority of the best drivers, and in this, Isaac Page, Luda Adams, Peyton R. Sides, David Gordon, John Lanning, Abram Dedrick and David Johnson excelled all other drivers.

Mr. Endsley, before mentioned, divides the old stage drivers in four classes, as follows: “(1) Awkward, slovenly, careless drivers, such as handled the whip and ‘ribbons’ so clumsily, and kept their teams so unseemly together, up hill, down grades and on the level, that it was painful to see them on the box. Typical of this class were Tom Frantz, Dan Boyer, Pete Null and Abe Halderman. (2) Cruel men—their cruelty amounting almost to brutality. This class seemed to take a fiendish delight in whipping, lashing and gashing horses. Wash Alridge and a big, burly driver by the name of Robinson, were types of the cruel class. (3) Careful, easy-going, common, every daykind of drivers—men who never made pretensions to fancy styles. They were such as John Bunting (Old Judy), Jim Reynolds, James Carroll (Flaxey), Blanchard (Hatchet Face), Billy Armor and Josh. Boyd. (4) Well dressed drivers, clean and neat in person, and men who regarded sitting down to a meal in shirt sleeves ascontra, bonos mores. This class manipulated the whip and ‘ribbons’ scientifically, and sat on the box in a way that showed they were masters of the situation. Prominent in this class were John High, Pate Sides, Peter Halderman, ‘Yankee’ Thompson, Sam Jerome, Jim Moore,” &c. In this latter class might be ranked David Gordon, James Burr, and others of the western end of the road.

JOHN BUNTING.

Samuel Luman, still living in Cumberland, and in good health, was one of the best equipped stage drivers on the road. His experience covers many of the most exciting and interesting events in the road’s history. He commenced his career as a stage driver in 1832, the same year that Alfred Bailes began as a wagoner. He tells of a collision with highwaymen in the mountains, which was attended by thrilling details. On the 12th of August, 1834, he was on the road between Piney Grove and Frostburg, with a mail and passenger coach going east. After nightfall, and at a point studded by a thick growth of pine trees, he was confronted by a party of foot-pads, five in number, and strange to relate, one a woman, bent on felony. The outlook was alarming. Luman carried no fire-arms, and there was but one weapon among his passengers, a small, brass pistol, not brought into requisition, as the sequel shows. The assailants had thrown across the road an obstruction like a rude fence, made of logs, stumps and brush. As Luman’s trusty leaders approached the obstruction, one of the highwaymen stepped out from his cover and seized a bridle, and the coach was stopped. The assailant ordered Luman to descend from his seat and surrender his charge. This he very politely, but very decidedly declined to do. “What do you want?” queried Luman, with seeming innocency. “We are traders,” was the response. “Well,” rejoined Luman, coolly, “I have nothing to trade; I am satisfied with my trappings, and not desirous of exchanging them.” During this little parley the wood-be robber, who held a leader by the bridle, cried out to a partner in crime, who was near at hand, though under cover of darkness, to shoot the driver, and denounced him as a coward for not firing. The party thus addressed then leveled a pistol at Luman and pulled the trigger, but the result was nothing more than a “snap,” the night air being damp and the powder failing to explode. These favorable surroundings, no doubt, saved Luman’s life. The foot-pads at the heads of the leaders had, in the confusion and excitement of the moment, turned the horses squarely around, so that the leaders faced west, while the wheel horses stood to the east. In this conjuncture the party in charge of the leaders undertook to unhitch them, and to guard against the movements of Luman, wrapped a driving rein tightly around one of his arms. This was Luman’s opportunity, and summoning all his resources, he poured a volley of stinging lashes uponhis antagonist, smiting him on the face and arm, alternately, and most vigorously. The bandit winced, and soon relinquished his grasp, when, almost in the twinkling of an eye, the team under Luman’s skillful hands started up on a full run, leaping the improvised fence, and speeding on, leaving the foot-pads behind to lament their discomfiture. Mr. Luman relates that in crossing the improvised fence, he fairly trembled for the fate of himself and passengers, as the coach was within an ace of capsizing. He also states that the ruffian who seized his leader wore a gown that covered his whole person, tied around the middle of his body with a belt, and that another of his assailants wore a white vest, dark pantaloons, and covered his face with a black mask. The other three kept in the back ground during the attack, so that he is unable to recall their appearance. Mr. Luman further relates that when the first assault was made on him, he apprized his passengers of the impending danger and besought their assistance, but they crouched in their seats and made no effort to aid him or defend themselves. They were western merchants going east to buy goods, and had among them as much as sixty thousand dollars in cash. When the coach arrived safely at the Highland house, Frostburg, George Evans at that time proprietor thereof, the grateful passengers “took up” a collection for the benefit of their courageous and faithful driver and deliverer, but Luman says the sum proffered was so ludicrously small that he declined to receive it, and ever thereafter regarded that lot of passengers as a “mean set.” Samuel Luman drove four teams between Cumberland and the Big Crossings. In 1839 he concluded to give up stage driving and try tavern keeping. His first venture in this line was at Piney Plains, east of Cumberland and near Cessna’s old stand. He approved himself a popular landlord, and was well patronized. From Piney Plains he went to Frostburg, and took charge of the Franklin House. His next and last experience in tavern keeping was at the National House, in Cumberland. Luman interested himself in the detection and punishment of mail robbers, which drew upon him the animosity of suspected persons, and Mr. Stockton, fearing that the suspected ones might waylay and murder him, advised him to take service east of Cumberland, which he did. He is altogether one of the most interesting characters of the road.

SAMUEL LUMAN.

George Fisher was a stage driver, who left his footprints very plainly on the limestone dust of the road. He was noted for his daring in the manipulation of fiery steeds. A fractious team was stationed at Claysville, which was the terror of all the drivers on that section of the road. It “ran off” several times, once killing a passenger outright, and seriously injuring others. This occurred on Caldwell’s Hill, seven miles west of Washington, Pennsylvania. George Fisher was sent down from Washington to take charge of this team, and soon had it under complete control. He drove it many years without an accident. Fisher was a large, well proportioned, and fine looking man. He was driving the team mentioned in 1844, the year in which the celebrated political contest occurred, wherein James K.Polk and Henry Clay were opposing candidates for the presidency. Fisher was an ardent supporter of Polk, and quite bitter in his enmity against the Whigs. On the day of a large Whig meeting in Washington, an extra coach, not on regular time, but filled with passengers, passed over the road, going west. It fell to Fisher’s lot to haul this coach from Claysville to Roney’s Point, a relay beyond the State line, in Virginia. A delegation of Whigs, with banners and music, from West Alexander and vicinity, went up to Washington to attend the meeting, and on their return homeward in the evening, were overhauled by Fisher, who ran his team and coach into the Whig procession at several points, doing damage to buggies, carriages, and light wagons, and inflicting some quite serious personal injuries. Colin Wilson, a prominent citizen of Washington county at that date, was one of the persons injured by Fisher’s inroad, and was seriously hurt. Fisher, in extenuation of his apparently criminal conduct, pleaded the irritability of his team, that it became frightened by the banners and music, was unmanageable, and the injuries inflicted were not intentional on his part, but purely accidental. The reputation of the team for pettishness was well known in the neighborhood of the occurrence, and served as a plausible excuse, and really saved Fisher from prosecution, and probably consequent punishment, but all the Whigs of that neighborhood went to their graves under the solemn belief that Fisher “did it a purpose.” The following account of an accident, furnished by John Thompson, the old wagoner, no doubt relates to Fisher’s team previous to the date at which he took charge of it: In the month of October, 1843, a stage team started to run from the locust tree near Caldwell’s tavern. The driver lost control, and the team dashed down the long hill at a terrific gait. They kept in the road until Wickert’s bridge was reached, at which point the coach, team, passengers, driver and all were violently thrown over the bridge. A Mr. Moses, a Kentucky merchant, and his nephew, were sitting by the side of the driver, and all remained firmly in their seats until the collapse occurred. The Kentucky merchant had a leg badly crushed, and in two days after the accident died, and was buried in the old graveyard at Washington. Doctors Stevens and Lane, of Washington, were promptly summoned and did all that medical and surgical skill could devise to aid the unfortunate sufferer, but gangrene ensued and baffled it all. The driver was severely hurt, and nursed at the Caldwell House until the spring of 1844, when he recovered. The nephew of Mr. Moses and all the other passengers escaped without injury. The remains of Mr. Moses were subsequently removed from Washington by his relatives, and interred near his home in Kentucky. Wickert’s bridge is so called because a man of that name was murdered many years ago near it, and for a long time thereafter, according to neighborhood superstition, returned to haunt the bridge.

Daniel Leggett was an old stage driver, well known, and will be long remembered. He once had the distinction of hauling the celebrated Indian chief, Black Hawk, and hissuite. The party ascended the Ohio river by steamboat, and took stage at Wheeling. Upon entering the coach at that point, Black Hawk showed shyness, fancying it might be a trap set for him by his pale faced enemies, and it required some persuasion by an interpreter, who accompanied his party, to induce him to enter and take a seat. The coach passed over the road without unusual incident until it reached Washington, Pennsylvania. Going down the main street of Washington, from the postoffice, which was in the neighborhood of the court house, the breast strap of one of the wheel horses broke, causing a precipitation of the coach upon the leaders, and the team becoming frightened, dashed down the street at fearful speed. One of the party of Indians was seated by the driver, and thrown off, carrying down with him the driver. The team, thus left without a driver, rushed headlong for the stable of the National House, and at the corner of Main and Maiden streets, the coach upset. It contained nine passengers, eight Indians and one half-breed. The first one to show up from the wreck was Black Hawk, who stood upright in the middle of the street, disclosing a single drop of blood on his forehead, and manifesting much excitement and indignation, as he uttered “Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” The interpreter had an arm broken, which was the only serious casualty attending the accident. Black Hawk now became almost wholly irreconcilable. The interpreter tried to explain to him the true situation, and to assure him that no harm was aimed at him, but the dusky warrior repelled the approaches of the friendly mediator, and refused to be reconciled. He was now certain that the white men intended to kill him. After a little while the excitement abated, and with it the temper of the unfortunate Indian chieftain. He was persuaded to enter the tavern, and observing that the surroundings were not hostile, threw off his sullenness, and became somewhat sensible of the situation, and apparently reconciled to it. Another coach of the line was provided, and the party proceeded on their journey to parley with the Great Father of the White House. The occasion marked an era in the life and career of the old driver, Daniel Leggett, which he referred to with intense interest on frequent occasions throughout the remainder of his life. The Black Hawk incident occurred in 1837, when Van Buren was president.

Tobias Banner, as if to do justice to his name, was an imposing driver. He was a chum of Jerry McMullin, another old driver, and the two together enjoyed many a game of bluff, while their teams were quietly resting in the well furnished old stables. They were both mail drivers in and out from Washington. McMullin at one time to vary the monotony of stage life, made a trip to Stockton’s lane, in Greene county, to see the races, which occurred at regular periods at that place in that day. He engaged in a game of seven up, with a stalwart native of Greene county, for five dollars a side, and while he really won the game, his overgrown adversary claimed the stakes on an allegation of foul play. A quarrel and a fight ensued, and JerryMcMullin returned to Washington with a blackened eye and diminished purse, vowing that he would never venture upon mud roads again.

George McKenna drove first on the Oyster line and afterwards a stage team. He was a Greene county man, and brother-in-law of Morgan R. Wise. After he quit driving he set up an oyster saloon in Waynesburg, and finally engaged with a travelling menagerie and lost his life in a railroad accident between New York and Philadelphia.

Paris Eaches, a strangely sounding name now, but once familiar to the ear of every pike boy, was a well known and well liked driver. He radiated from Washington, Pennsylvania, but left his mark all along the line. He was a jolly fellow and enjoyed the excitement of the road. He was always a favorite at social parties of young folks, and entertained them with songs. He had a good voice and sang well. “I have left Alabama,” was one of his best songs, and he always sang it to the delight of his hearers.

Jack Bailiss was a widely known and popular driver, a married man, and a resident of Washington, Pennsylvania. He was accounted a reckless driver, and delighted in exciting the apprehension of his passengers, often filling them with terror by specimens of what they considered reckless driving. He knew the danger line however, and always kept within it. He drove the coach from Claysville to Washington, Pennsylvania, in which Gen. Taylor traveled on his way to the Capital to assume the Presidency.

Henry A. Wise, an old driver, is well remembered by the old people of the road on account of the quaintness of his character. He was not a driver on the National Road, but drove the mail coach from Uniontown to Morgantown, Virginia. Mr. Stockton had the contract for carrying the mail between these points, and Wise was his chief driver, and pursued this calling for many years. His headquarters in Uniontown were at the Old Hart tavern, Jackson’s favorite stopping place, now the Hotel Brunswick. He was driving on this route as early as 1836. He was an odd genius, as Mr. John E. Reeside says of him, a “typical tide water Virginian.” He claimed to be descended from blue blood, and simply drove stage for amusement. He always had plenty of slack in his reins, and as a consequence rarely kept his team straight in the road. It is said that on one occasion, while half asleep on the box, his team turned from the road through an open gap into a field, and commenced eagerly to graze on the growing clover. Wise was tall and spare, and habitually wore a high silk hat.

John Huhn was a driver west of Washington, Pennsylvania. He married a daughter of John McCrackin, a well known and prosperous farmer of the vicinity of Claysville. When stage lines dissolved and stage coaches no longer rattled over the old pike, John Huhn engaged in the tanning business at Claysville, and was successful.

Peter Payne, an old driver east and west from Keyser’s Ridge, was noted as an expert hand at a game of poker. He was usually a winner, and being a man of economic habits, saved his small accumulations from time to time and ultimately became rich. He often sat down to a game with Joseph Dilly, an old blacksmith of the mountain division of the road, a skillfull player, who, like Payne, also grew rich.

Frank Lawson, who subsequently kept tavern in Triadelphia, was a stage driver. He first drove on Weaver’s Ohio line, next on a line in Kentucky, where he upset a coach causing the death of one or more of his passengers, and afterward came to the National Road and drove between Wheeling and Washington. He is mentioned by Mr. Reeside as an expert driver of the “Top and Bottom,” or Pennsylvania mode of driving.

John Stotler was among the drivers on the first line of stages. He was stoutly built, a good reinsman and a popular driver. He drove out east and west from Cumberland. John Whitney, an Englishman, was an early driver, and noted for his caution in handling his team and caring for the comfort and safety of passengers.

Joseph Whisson drove from Washington to Claysville, and is well remembered and highly spoken of by all old citizens living on that section of the road. He is still living at Triadelphia, West Virginia.

Jason Eddy was one of the many drivers sent out on the road in an early day from New Jersey by “Commodore” Reeside, as James, the old stage proprietor, was frequently called. Eddy was an expert driver, and it was said of him that “he could turn his team and coach on a silver dollar.” He was likewise a good musician, and played well on the bugle. He often entertained his passengers with stirring bugle blasts.

William Walker was a careful old driver, and so economical that he acquired property from the savings of his scanty wages.

William Craver, Edward Hays and the two Welches were old stage drivers, whose names were familiar along the road in its early history.

Isaac Page, first named by Mr. Reeside as a good driver in the Eastern style, was a Uniontown man, and died in that place before the glories of the old road had waned. He left a widow and a son, Charles, who went to New York, where the son engaged in business, prospered and became rich. His mother was highly esteemed by all who knew her, and to her example is attributed the success of the son.

Dr. Thayer, who subsequently became a circus proprietor, commenced driving stage on the National Road when eighteen years of age. He drove from Uniontown to Farmington on the “old line” previous to 1840. He was a skillful driver, and subsequently achieved success as a circus owner.

Gideon Bolton (nicknamed “Hoop-pole,” from the circumstance of his coming from a hoop-pole region in Preston county, West Virginia), drove many years on the mountain division of the road, and is well remembered.

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