Upon a certain day, as the mail was leaving Boston, a letter containing some fifty dollars, in good and lawful money, duly marked and recorded, that it might afterwards be identified, was placed in the package of letters for the post-office which had suffered so many losses before, and to pass through the office over which he of the tight coat presided. This package was watched by the Special Agent for the distance of seventy miles or more, until it had arrived unmolested within ten or fifteen miles of the suspected office.
About this time I again fell in with General Pierce, who kindly offered to act in concert with me until the result of that day's experiment should be decided; he taking the stage which was to convey the mail, and I intending to follow after by private conveyance, both to meet again, and to examine the contents of the bag after it had passed the office at C. The object of this temporary separation, as my readers will readily see, was to prevent the possibility of any recognition of my person, which might have been incurred had I been seen traveling with a gentleman so well known as the Hon. Mr. Pierce. Much curiosity would inevitably be manifested to know whom the U. S. District Attorney had with him, and speculations on the subject might approach too near the truth for the interests of public justice.
The united efforts of the sixteen legs which impelled the "leathern conveniency" containing my friend, the Attorney, were soon too much for the four that hurried along "Cæsar and his fortunes;" and the first-mentioned vehicle ere long was "hull-down" in the distance. I had often been over this route before, yet in some incomprehensible way, either by turning off too often, or not turning often enough, I got upon the wrong road, and came near making a bungling job of it. Pressing on as fast as possible to get a glimpse of the stage once more. I had driven furiously for several miles, until, becoming convinced that I was not likely to overtake it though I should go in that direction till doomsday, I halted at a farm-house which stood near the road, and addressed a man who apparently had been engaged in cutting wood in the yard, for he stood, axe in hand, with an unsplit log lying before him. The sound of my wheels had undoubtedly arrested his attention. Dropping his axe with alacrity, he lounged up to the fence, and leaned his elbows upon it, evidently prepared to refresh himself after his bodily toil, with a little social intercourse.
"Is this the road to G.?" said I.
"What are yer in such a darned hurry for, now," replied my interlocutor. "I've heerd them air wheels of yourn a rattlin, rattlin, this half hour by spells, and I don't bleive I've cut the vally of an armfull of wood all that time. I do'no what She'll say."
Here he glanced uneasily over his shoulder towards the house, as if he feared Her awe-inspiring presence.
"But, my friend," I remonstrated, "this don't tell me anything about the road. I am in a hurry, and no mistake; and I'll be much obliged to you, if you will give me a short answer to a short question."
"Wal, if that's all you want, mebbe I can 'commodate yer. 'Taint no use keeping on this ere road. Ef you should drive ever so fast on't, you couldn't never git to G. Cause it don't go there! Wal, you wanted a short answer, so I'll give it to yer. That are beast o' yourn hes some good pints. Wal, ef you. want to git to G.—lemme see,—never bin on this road afore, hev you?"
"Of course I haven't," replied I, somewhat testily.
"Then you wouldn't know nothin about the old Hoxie place; no, sartin you wouldn't. Wal, abeout two mild furder on, you'll come to a brick house with four chimblys, jist where another road comes in. You turn to the right by the brick house, and that'll bring you to G."