The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1883-04-28
MY RIDE ON A STAR ROUTE.
A TRUE sKETCH-BY LUCY L. SANFORD

TRUE sKETCH-BY LUCY L. SANFORD.
wished to 60 fourteen miles north
ward. By cars must go three sides of
square. The trip, and waiting at de-
pots, would take from II O'Clock A. NJ,
to 20 o'clock P. N.
"For the accommodation of two small
post offices. a stage, a poor affair, runs
direct" said mine host.
The freshness of a summer morning,
the hilly road, the changing views the
trees, wild flowers and singing birds
were delight, even in thought, and |
said at once:
1.-THE stage"
While breakfasting, the next morning,
the clerk came in and said in low voice:
"The stage is here, and your trunk is
on, but finish your breakfast, the driver
will wait"
went out soon, but no stage was to
be seen, and l asked if it had gone for
other passengers.
This is it," said my more laughing
than smiling host.
"Such another nondescript vehicle
may never see. One poor, old, white
horse, and express wagon, the back seat
of which had been taken out to make
room for my trunk, and the packages of
all forms and sizes, for the driver proved
to be an express messenger, and the uni
versal errand boy of the farmers along
the route. hesitated. Ny trunk was
on, and the morning air fragrant. SO
with help, climbed on the wheel, and
pitched into the wagon, and took pos
session of the one seat, and planted my
feet upon what seemed an empty bag,
but which proved to have the honor o
being the Z. S. Mail, and to contain two
packages Gone of which, as got out to
rest while the mail was being changed, |
saw contained exactly two postal cards
and four newspapers.)
"Where is the driver | asked.
"When he found out he was to have
lady passenger, he went in to empty and
rinse his mouth out" was the answer.
He came out at the elbows, patched
ut the knees, with vest and linen spotted
with tobacco juice. turned my head
away, as, sitting down beside me, lie took
up the reins and said:
"G'lang, g'lang, g'lang."
This oft-repeated word alone broke our
silence, until out of the village he stopped
at a stone trough, beneath some trees, to
water his horse. On a bough robin
was swaying to and fro, and warbling
his sweetest notes, ending in long twit-
ter. The driver, who was standing at
his horses head, took some crumbs from
his pocket and held them out. The
robin flew down and ate them from his
hand. With clear, smooth voice the
driver quoted WORDSWORTH lines:
"Thou art the bird that man loves best
The pious bird with scarlet breast,
The bird, who by some name or other.
AL uCh WIN hho" UNIV Soii WIZ
brother"
He scattered more crumbs on the stone,
buckled the check rein, mounted the
seat with:
"Good bye. my little friend, be here
to morrow, g'lang, g'lang.
The delicate act, the cultured voice,
made me look at him His face was
clean and shaver; his features regular
and refined; his eyes large, clear and very
deep blue; his hair a brown gray; his
hands small and, had the nails only
been clean, would have been handsome.
"Who can he be ?" said to myself; to
him said:
"That bird seems to know you
He is always waiting for the male,"
he said.
"And always gets something l fancy
always. l rarely have passenger,
and so talk to the birds and squirrels,
g'lang, glang. l regret l haven't bet
ter horse-g' lang-as my constant urging
must annoy you, g'lang, g'lang."
"You do not whip him."
"Never. But l often think Sancho
Panza's Rosinante, like the Wandering
Jew, is still on earth"
"And this is he ?"
"This is he, without doubt"
Just then we drove through bit Of
woodland, full of music. He said:
"Now truly Mary Hewitt voiced ones
feelings in her poem:
'Come ye into the summer woods But
no mortal pen can
Tell half the sights Of beauty you may
sce.'"
loved to hear him talk. His language
was large, his anecdotes refined, his quo
tations from standard authors were fire.
quent, but brief and to the point.
"Who can he be ?" 1 asked myself
again and again. At farm houses he
stopped to give packages from mended
scythe sheath to gold bracelet. And
whenever good woman ran out and
called, he took her wishes in note book
with all the courtesy and bearing of a
thoroughbred gentleman.
took the liberty to glance at the book.
The writing and spelling showed him to
be man of education.
"Will not so many stops prevent your
making time % l asked.
T % p1>l 70 hn nt
-unsil 12 o'clock, and l start two
hours earlier than the old driver did"
"In order to oblige the farmers along
the route 90 l asked.
"In part but Pope says, Self-love
and social are the same l love the
morning air; love to speak word to
the good people to break the dead mono
tony of their work-dsy lives by a bit of
stirring news. Truly these hours on the
road are the pleasantest of my life."
"You are never lonely o.
"Never. With God and nature can
enc be lonely?
A gentleman with pair of blooded
horses, passed us, and they exchanged
cordial greetings. The driver said:
"a woman, who had worked in the
family of that gentleman's father, for
many years, he took care of for the last
ten years. She had become helpless and
nearly blind, so when she died, last
month, she was past mourning for. After
she was made ready for burial and laid