The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-02-06
MY RIDE ON A STAR ROUTE.
A True Sketch.

from IL q CLOCK a. vi. TO 4.SU o CLOCK L. NJ.
For the accommodation of two small
postoffices, a stage-a poor affair-runs di-
rect said mine host.
The freshness of a summer morning, the
billy road, the changing views, the trees,
the wild flowers, and singing birds were a
delight even in thought, and | said at once !:
"The stage"
While breakfasting the next morning the
clerk came in and said in a 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 | asked if he 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, an
express wagon, the back seat of which had
been taken out to make room for my trunk
and packages of all forms and sizes-for
the driver proved to be an express mes
senger and universal GRAND boy for the
farmers along the route. My trunk was
Oh, and the morning air fragrant. So,
with help, I climbed Oh the wheel and
pitched into the wagon and took possession
of the one seat, and planted my feet Upon
what seemed an empty bag, but which
proved to have the honor of being the Uni
ted States mail and to contain two packa-
ges Gone of which, as | got out to rest while
the mail was changed, | saw contained ex-
actly two postal cards and four news
papers.)
"Where is the driver ?" | asked.
"When he found out he was to have a
lady passenger he went in to empty and
rinse his mouth out was the answer.
He came, out at the elbows, patched at
the knees, with vest and linen spotted with
tobacco juice. | turned my head away, as,
sitting down beside me, he took mp the
reins and said
'G'lang, g'lang, g'lang!s
This oft-repeated word alone broke our
silence, until out of the village he stopped
at the stone trough, beneath some trees, to
water his horse. On a bough a robin was
swaying and warbling his sweetest notes,
ending in a long twitter. 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 a clear, smooth voice the
driver quoted Wordsworth's
"Thou art the bird that man loves best,
The pious bird with scarlet breast,
The bird who, by some name or other,
All men who know thee call thee brother"
He scattered more crumbs on the stone,
buckled the check rein, and mounted the
seat with
Goodbye, 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
clean shaved his features regular and re-
fined his eyes large, clear, and very deep
blue his hair a brown gray his hands
small, and, had the nails been clean, would
have been handsome.
"Who can he be % l 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, | fancy
"Always. Rarely have a passenger, and
so ak to the birds and squirrels-g'lang,
g'lang l regret haven't a better horse
-g'lang-as my constant urging must
annoy you-g'lang, g'lang
"You do not whip him"
"Never. But | often think Sancho
Panza's R~osinante, like the Wandering
Jew, is still on EARTH
"And this is he?'
'.This is he without a doubt y
Just then we drove through a bit of
woodland full of music. He said
GLOW truly Mary Hewitt voices ones
feelings in her poem
'Come we into the summer woods. But no
mortal pen can
Tell half the sights of beauty you may see
loved to hear him talk. His language
was pure, his anecdotes refined, his quota
tions from standard authors were frequent.
but brief and to the point.
'sWho can he be 2" | asked myself again
and again. AT farm houses he stopped to
give packages, from a mended scythe snath
to a gold bracelet. And whenever a good
woman ran ont and called, he took her
wishes in a 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 a man of education.
"Will not SO many stops prevent your
making time ?" j asked.
'Oh.no am not obliged TO be at
until 10 NJ, and | start two hours earlier
than the old driver did
''In order to oblige the farmers along the
route ." | asked.
''In part; but Pope says, Self love and
social are the same | love the morning
air. love to speak u word to the good
people. to break the dead monotolly of
their work-day lives 10y a bit of stirring
news. Truly, these Eours on the road ale
the pleasantest of my life"
You are never lonely ?"
- OIL .-.1 49,. 80 nAa I