The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1901-08-09
A MAD RIDE.
-~O.s-
A Philadelphian's Adventure
on a Stagecoach.

| 2-%-@-H-N-1- @-@-@M-1-@-3
A party of gentlemen composed Of
| half dozen prominent citizens were
| assembled recently in the smoking room
of the Art club when the conversation
| drifted to modern travelling conven-
| fences, and one of the number observed
| that while we had gained most marvel
ously in point of rapidity and luxury
we had lost the poetry of travel as ex-
emplified by the old fashioned coach,
with its belled and caparisoned horses,
its flourish of tasseled whip and the
merry winding horn. The speaker was
stopped by another of the party, whose
face had signified his uneasiness at the
description.
Don't, my dear sir" said this gentle
man, who is a power in the financial
circles of Philadelphia. Your reminis-
cence is very pretty, but your mention
of the antebellum stagecoach revived
memory which is even yet a horror to
me, though it is over 80 years old
had an experience in one of your laud-
ed vehicles once that afterward made
me walk nearly 100 miles to keep from
entering another, and to this day when-
ever l am unwell or troubled in any
way | am sure to dream of the occur
renee, and my wife, hearing me groan-
ing, will awaken me, with the cold pei,
spiration flowing from my body, and
say, Dreaming again of your stage
coach fright, aren't your And yet
fatter myself that l am not more cow
ardly than most men,"
The company insisted ON the story.
1t was given, as follows:
"As most of you know, my fathers
death followed close on the heels of his
failure in business, leaving me, his son
and only surviving member of his FAM
lily, without penny. l left college; but,
wholly untitled for any work. found
myself on the verge of starvation, so
left Philadelphia and started west,
turned up finally in Virginia City.
was pretty desperate by this time and
glad enough to accept an offer made
ME to drive the stage to Sacramento.
1t was not a long drive nor an unpleas-
ant one, though in parts rather danger
Gus or at least requiring careful driv-
ing and steady horses.
81 had made several trips very sue
cessfully, when one morning l left Vir-
ginia City with a single passenger.
This was a man of slight, delicate
build, rather understood, too; dressed
in heavy clothes, which struck me at
once as peculiar, for the day was a
lovely June one. Another thing i'm
pressed me disagreeably in my passen-
ger-his eyes were a bright, unnatural
blue, with something in their furtive
glance that spoke i'll for his conscience
or his wits, though I did not think of
the latter then.
ut was very unusual thing for the
stage to carry so light a load, and |
found myself lingering few minutes
behind time to see if more were not
coming, for | had vague dislike
which must have been a presentiment
against setting off alone with my queer
passenger. There was nothing for it,,
though, but to go, so | started, hoping
to pick up others on the road. l did
not. however, and gradually l lost my
depression, though it was lonely ride
without any one to speak to, for, unlike
most people who patronized the line,
the man showed no disposition to talk
or to question the driver, so after one
or two attempts to draw him out L let
my gentleman alone.
"After awhile, however, he began to
complain aloud, though to himself, at
my management OF the horses, but
took no notice of his growing. We had
by that time reached the mountains
and entered ON a narrow strip of road
along the brow of a canyon, at the bot
tom of which cleaned a tiny thread
of silver. which knew to be the river
1t was Il sheer descent of 700 feet, and
| usually checked the horses at that
part of the journey. l had done this,
when my passenger stuck his head out
of the window and demanded if |
meant to keep up that funeral pace, but
did not give me time to answer, and
thrust out his hand with a revolver
clasped in it.
"'Get off that seat he yelled. 4 will
drive myself"
81 saw he would net hesitate to shoot
me, so climbed down with alacrity,
when he advanced toward me and,
threatening se still with the pistol
made me get into the stage.
"'Do you know who amT he asked.
We'll, I'm the devil, and Pm going to
drive you to hell
'This speech and his looks, which
were those of a lunatic. and a danger
Gus one, too, in his excitement, told me
the truth. and can tell you | felt the
icy sweat break over me, butI climbed
meekly into the coach and watched the
mailman mount to my seat. | could on
ly hope that he would still retain wit
enough to drive slowly, but the first
thing he did was to bring the lash down
upon the horses with viciousness that
made them start into a frenzied run,
and then the maddest, most terrible
journey man ever undertook began
"fhe stage span along like crazy
top, the horses galloping wildly, spring
ing wildly now and then 80 cut from
the shouting drivers whip, while, abso-
lutely sick with terror, | had not
strength ito leap into the road, as /
made up my mind to do time ndagain.
would undoubtedly have been killed
at the rate at which we were going,
and 1t was the bare shred of hope,