Middletown transcript., 1884-03-07
ONE NIGHT IN A CALIFORNIA
STAGE-COACH.
BY Isle LESTER.

1t was before the Union and Centra
Pacific railroads were thought OF. Ii
the days when a journey by stage from
: Virginia City, New, to Sacramento
was an event-days when two stages
sometimes three, six horses each, left
the city on Mt. Davidson, loaded with
silver bricks, Wells, Fargo & Co.'S ex
press boxes filed with dust and coin,
the United States mail, and twelve OF
fourteen passengers to each stage
What journey it was
: Mark Twain, Bret Harte and Joaquin
Miller, whom everybody knows of to-
day, know all that is conveyed in this
exclamation, 3" What a journey 1t a0aS f''
Across Carson Valley, rich in its shades
Of umber and bronze; up the eastern
slope of the Sierras, for ever green and
snow-crowned first through gently
ascending valleys, fragrant with pine
and cedar, melodious with dancing cat
aracts, and running golden water in
the sluice-boxes then perilous winding
grades higher up, with misty spaces
below and gigantic boulders above-a
night of dizzy ascent in such theatre
of snowy pinnacles, domes and turrets,
none can believe but those who see
still on in the dawn of the morning
where the grandeur Of the snow sum-
mits were kissed then blushed in match
less crimson; down grades that whirled
around spurs and shelving mountains
in wondrous circuits a hearty break
fast on Tahoe trout, and on again down
the Eureka side Of the Sierras, past
the witchery of its scenery to sunny
Sacramento Valley-three days
Shake out blanket and robe; stretch
the limbs in blissful luxury all in all,
it was worth lifetime.
1t was a cold, bleak night in early
December. The Virginia coach was
late into Carson City. The horses
we're dripping and smoking as they
drew up before the hotel the wheels
were clogged all out of any resemblance
to their identity with snow and mud
combination early Californians will
find no difficulty in remembering. The
passenger list was small-two gentle
men, who had grumbled from the
minute they took their seats because
the stage was not hotel one lady for
Placerville, and the writer, rolled up in
double blankets. Under the seats were
seven leather sacks with red seals on,
each sack containing a silver brick,
| weighing more than a New York car
conductor could possibly lift. Wells &
Fargo's boxes and the mail filed up
the front boot, and numerous boxes
and baggage weighed down the back
boot.
Supper over, fresh horses ready, and
"Curley Jim,'' a well-known, historic
character and stage-driver, in huge
blanket overcoat, was already on his
seat, gathering into his big gloved
fingers, in miraculous fashion, the lines
Of the restive team. Muf1ed to the
crown of his head sat the express mes
senger, on the drivers left.
All aboard !"
Hold on minute, Curley, shouted
the agent, running down the hotel
steps and climbing up the wheel, appar-
emily to whisper in Curley Jim's ear, if
that appendage could be found.
What was conveyed into that ear by
the agent no one ever knew, but the
whole town heard the drivers volcanic
reply, viz:
Thunderation ~
At the same time his whip was
slammed heavily down upon the top
of the coach, and the reins twisted in
twinkling across the break-handle,
and above the wind and sleet he was
heard to shout to the stableman, who
was holding the leading team:
Hold that near leader thar and
chock up old Fremont or he'll kick
that trace into Jericho ~
Then he descended from his seat and
slammed the door back, as mite Of
woman emerged from the crowd on the
steps and made her way to the coach,
with bundle in her arms. In a
brusque, but still kindly tone, Curley
Jim called out
Passengers inside, make room for a
woman and child.''
The g woman, y not much more than
child in physique, was helped into
the back seat beside the writer and a
small parcel, called g" the baby, " handed
in very gently by the rough-voiced
driver, saying, at the same time:
"Get yourself fixed warm, ma'am
wrap that blanket round yer feet; it'll
be old Riper and lightning before we
get up the first grade. Are ye all right
now 7"
Aplaintive voice, almost drowned in
the screeching of the wind, answered:
Yes, sir-thank you for your good
ness"
"Oh, blast my goodness" retorted
Curley, so you're all right
Slam went the door, and in remark
ably short time the same voice was
heard from the drivers seat, shouting
within its peculiar emphasis, as the
whip snapped over the team:
" All set Let 'em gol Hit up Old
Virginny, there she needs knocking
down. Hi, there, you Piute dandy p
and, with groan of pain, the wheels
crashed through the snow, and We
rolled out of Carson into one Of the
most disagreeable nights ever known
on the Eastern Slope.
Until near midnight we rode steadily