Two miles from the foot of Sideling Hill, and on the north side of the road, John H. Mann kept a wagon stand. His house was a frame building. Mann was a citizen of some prominence, and at one time represented his county (Washington) in the Maryland Legislature. It is not known that his proclivities in the line of statesmanship impaired in any wise his talent for tavern keeping.
On the western slope of Sideling Hill, about midway between the summit and the foot, Thomas Norris kept a tavern, which was a favorite resort of wagoners. His house was a large stone building, on the north side of the road. There was a picturesqueness about the location of this old tavern that imparted a peculiar spice to the ordinary rounds of entertainment enjoyed by its guests. Samuel Cessna kept this house at one time.
One mile west of Sideling Hill creek, a wagon stand was kept by the widow Ashkettle, another widow, and she no exception to the rule before stated, that the widows all kept good houses. Her name is not inappropriate to some of the duties of housekeeping, but Mrs. Ashkettle’s forte was not in making lye, but in setting a good, clean table. She had a son, David, who managed the business of the house for her. Her house was a frame building, and stood on the north side of the road.
Two miles west of Mrs. Ashkettle’s the wayfarer struck the point bearing the homely name of “Snib Hollow.” These old names never wear out, no matter how ugly they are, and it is well they do not. They all have a significance and an interest, local or otherwise, which would be lost by a change of name. Quidnuncs in history and literature have exerted their restless talents in efforts to obliterate these seemingly rude, old names, and substitute fancy ones in their stead, but they have failed, and their failure is a pleasant tribute to the supremacy of common sense. As early as 1825 the widow Turnbull kept a tavern at Snib Hollow. Later, an old wagon stand was kept there by John Alder, who had a large run of customers. His house was a log building, on the north side of the road.
Town Hill comes next, a half a mile west of Snib Hollow, at the foot of which Dennis Hoblitzell kept a tavern as early as the year 1830, and probably earlier. The house was on the east side of the road, and the locality is often called Piney Plains. Mrs. McClelland, of the McClelland House, Uniontown, is a daughter of Dennis Hoblitzell. Samuel Cessna subsequently kept this house, and stage lines and wagon lines all stopped at it. It was here, and in Cessna’s time, that Governor Corwin, of Ohio, was treated as a negro servant, mention of which is made in another chapter. In 1836 John Snider stopped over night at this house, with a load of emigrants, while Cessna was keeping it, and had to clean the oats he fed to his horses with an ordinary bed sheet, the windmill not having reached this point at that early day.
At the foot of Town Hill, on the west side, Henry Bevans kept a tavern. It was a wagon stand, and likewise a station for one of the stage lines. The house stood on the north side of the road, and enjoyed a good trade. Samuel Luman, the old stage driver, kept this house in 1839.
Two miles west from the Bevans house is Green Ridge, where an old wagon stand was kept by Elisha Collins. His house was a log building, and stood on the north side of the road. Although this house was humble in appearance, old wagoners are unstinted in bestowing praises on its ancient good cheer.
Trudging onward, two miles further to the westward, the old wagoner, and many a weary traveler, found a pleasant resting place at “Pratt’s Hollow,” where Samuel Hamilton kept a cozy old tavern. It was a frame house, on the north side of the road. Hamilton was a planter as well as tavern keeper, and raised tobacco and owned and worked negro slaves. Levi McGruder succeeded Hamilton as the keeper of this house. This locality derived its name from Pratt, who owned the property at an early day, and, upon authority of the veteran David Mahaney, kept the first tavern there. An incident occurred at Pratt’s Hollow in the year 1842, which brings to memory the state of public society in ante bellum times. Among the old wagoners of the road, was Richard Shadburn. He was a native of Virginia, and born a slave, while his complexion was so fair, and his hair so straight, that he readily passed for a white man. When quite young he escaped from his master and struck out for liberty among the enlivening scenes of the great highway of the Republic. On a certain evening of the year mentioned, he drove into McGruder’s wagon yard along with a number of other wagoners, to rest for the night. The sun had not yet disappeared behind the western hills, and a stage coach pulled up in front of McGruder’s tavern, and stopped for water, as was the custom at that point. Among the passengers in that coach was the owner of the slave, Shadburn. Looking out through the window of the coach he observed and recognized Shadburn, and calling to his aid a fellow passenger, emerged from the coach with a determination to reclaim his property. Dick was seized, but being a man of great muscular power, succeeded in releasing himself from the clutches of his assailants and fled. The disappointed master fired at Dick with a pistol, as he ran, but he made good his escape. The team driven by Shadburn belonged to Parson’s of Ohio, who shortly after the escapade mentioned, sent another driver to McGruder’s to take charge of it. Shadburn never afterward reappeared on the road, and it is believed that he found a home and at last a grave in Canada.
It was near Pratt’s Hollow that the Cotrells, father and two sons, murdered a peddler in 1822, the perpetrators of which crime were all hung from the same scaffold in Frederic. The old tavern at Pratt’s Hollow was destroyed by fire many years ago, and was never rebuilt.