The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1900-08-05

born ont on this road. and that's seventy
two years ago. Why, my parents. bless you.
are buried right over there. about two miles
this side of Jefferson Barracks.
Here's where we cross the River des
Peres. But / suppose you know all about
that, living in the city. There's no use me
telling you about a little stream like that.
although I've heard that some do call it the
kiver Dispense 'Tain't much of a river. is
il? Still. there have been people drowned in
1t when 1t was on the rampage.
Yes, this is the first post office stop, I
believe. Nursery Post Office they call it.
But 1 don't know much about it. In my days
there wasn't much nursery business along
this road. and I'm getting too old now to
try to keep up with all the new things. Oh,
yes, I forgot to tell you, there used to be a
toll gate at the foot of Tooloozhan Hil,.
which was a holy terror, and steep in war
tines
Alton Post Office is the next stop, and,
after We have left it behind. Gravois road,
as it has now become, stretches out from
hill to hill like a wind-tossed ribbon over a
field of green. Were one to follow the old
horses advice to his driver, Walk me up
hill. walk me down. Trot me when on level
ground there would be little trotting in
dulged in on most parts of the Gravois road.
Huskey is an old-time street car man. In
1879 he was foreman of the Sixth street
barn. He has driven n street car and has
been a motorman on the California avenue
line, and he looks after his stage coach
brake just the same as he used to look
after the brake on his car, just as constant
ly and just as carefully. And all the time
he keeps a-driving. he keeps a-driving.
Hold on there! Ease up a little!' Slap
gees the brake under the drivers extended
foot. There's a lady running Town to the
road over there. She wants a paper. Well,
wen just about get to the mouth of that
lane the same time she does.
Whoa. there! What is it, madam"
Republic. please says the lean old
woman, who, but for the fire in her sunken
i eyes beneath the brown sunbonnet, and her
! eager thirst for news of the day, would be
c!assed as decrepit. See how her gaunt
land trembles as she reaches up the two
pennies for her purchase. See the feverish
Impotence with which she scurries up the
lane, opening the newspaper as she goes.
The girl in the back seat hasn't said a
word. Perhaps she is wise and knows that
1t is unsafe to talk to strangers when travel
ing. Perhaps she is shy. or has been taught
not to speak until spoken to.
| Turning half around cur old lady address,
es her. Are you comfortable, daughter?'
she asks.
"oh. yes'm," says the girl. b~lushing with
the effort.
That's all pasture stock from the city,"
volunteers the driver, with a wave of his
whip to the right. Those are all city horses
sent out here to be put on grass while their
owners are away at the seashore or some
other old place. 1 don't know where.
Wouldn't mind having the pick of a couple
or good teams cut of that lot myself. but
I'm doubtful If they could stand this rock
read, day in and day out. 1t wouldn't SIR
prise me if it would so pretty hard on some
of those high-steppers, this stage coach
rum
You remember" asks one old lady. ga
, year and a half, or so. back, there was a
fellow tried to kill his wife and her mother
in st. Louis? 1 don't know but what he did