Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1849-09-15
ANTI.sLAvERY BUGLE, SALEM, o.
The Stage Coach aud the Car.

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The following lively description of n
journey in old times, in contrast with
travelling at the present day, is from a
recent number Of the Mass. Quarterly
Review.
To say nothing of a journey TO Wash
ington or New York, matters Of such
grave import as TO require "a note read
in meeting asking the prayers of the
pious for safe deliverance from perils by
sea and perils by land, one could not
make q journey even of a hundred miles
without painstaking preparation and long
suffering endurance.
If a wise man you prepared to start on
Monday, so as TO have the whole week
for lee way You went on Friday or
Saturday 10 the stage Office booked
yourself, and paid the fare. On Sunday,
about sunset, you might see some runner
from the Office speering about the neigh
borhood, TO make sure Of the place and
number Of your dwelling, in order the
more easily 10 find it in the gray of the
morning. You made a compact with
the wa,chman 10 rap on your window
an hour before the time of starting; or
you had some queer contrivance 10 a.
waken yourself, such as a bunch of
keys, or old iron, suspended by a string
passed across the lower part of a candle,
which, in four or five hours, would burn
down TO the mark, set fire TO the string,
let fall the iron into a wash-basin, and so
make racket enough to arouse you
You walked twenty times to see if the
machinery was all in order, and at last
got up before ii gave the signal. You
reused the maid, who hustled about TO
make ready your coffee, ham, and eggs,
while you shaved your chin and packed
your chest. At last you hear the dis
tant horn; then the sound Of rumbling
wheels,-of Gathering hoofs the STAGE
is at the door. You rush ~resolutely to
the 'entry,' and put on and button up
your overcoat with desperate haste you
don your travelling cap, and throw a
heavy cloak over your shoulders, while
two men lift your heavy trunk, and strain
and pull at great straps, TO bind it on be-
hind the coach which done, they cry
'all right ! and you kiss your mother,
wife, or sister, who stands shivering on
the doorway, holding a d~ressing-gown to-
gether with one hand, while the other,
raised above her head, supports the can
die whose Pickering light guides you
down the steps, and serves to tel! the
wondering neighbors, with night-capped
I heads popped out of the windows, who is
going away. You take The back seat,
if you are old and feeble the middle
1. one by the window, if you are hearty
or noun the box, beside the jolly driver,
T.. if you are young and vigorous, and want
: to see the country. Crack goes the
J whip! and away you post, 10 pick up 9th.
1 err passengers, and so pass an hour pre-
a pairing for the final start. AT last you
1 are fairly off; and the horses 60 jog
troting along the plain, walking up the
hills, galloping down The slopes, until yor
). come TO the changing place. You ,her
G get out, and warm your toes by the bar
G room fire, while the painting horses are
o taken off, and fresh ones are put on; yo,
treat your driver to a horn,' mot oftin,
which drunk, he lights his cigar, and
crying all aboard heaves his heav,
carcass up into his box, picks up tn,
u lines, and away you start again. Thu
:. toiling on, through all the tedious hour
ct Of the forenoon, stopping TO water tn
horses or to change them five or 81
n times. you arrive at the halfway house
Or hungry as a hunter, and happy that
j. quarter of your journey is done. After
III hearty dinner, you noun again and tr
10 sleep away an hour or So, while III
of rumbling carriage goes slowly on, wi,
to the occasional variety OF a breakdown
Z or an 'overset,' until, long after darI
DC you arrive at the s%topping-place for III
r. night; and, heated, tired, faded out, yo
lie down, p%erchance in damp sheets, viii
D. the poor satisfaction that you have g
over nearly fifty miles, and have onl
10 fifty more before you.
as But now, you make the same ~journe
= by going quietly to the station afic
re breakfast, with no other impedimel
at thar your sack coat and the last new no
h ell; you take your seat by the windov
ne you finish the distance as you finish II
first volume; you do your business, r.
turn home before night, and, if 20,
ne wife asks you where you 'dined to-day
you quietly answer, in Portland, or
ly Springfield, or anywhere else a hundrt
lat miles off, as The case may be.
a. A YANKEE PREACHER ON PREpEsTIN
III TIoN.-"Lel us for arguments sake, S,
II IL d. c.