The Old Pike / A History of the National Road, with Incidents, Accidents, and Anecdotes Thereon

by Thomas B. Searight

STAGE COACH

Stage drivers as a class did not rank as high morally as wagoners, but despite this there were among them men of good sense, honest intentions and steady habits. As typical of the better class, the reader who is familiar with the old road will readily recall Redding Bunting, Samuel Luman, Elliott Seaburn, Watty Noble, James Carroll, Aquila and Nat Smith, William Scott, David Gordon, James Burr, William Robinson, John Huhn, David Bell, John Guttery, John Ritter, Joseph Henderson and Peter Null. Others will be instantly recognized as their names shall appear on these pages. It is the sincere belief of all old pike boys that the stage lines of the National Road were never equalled in spirit and dash on any road, in any age or country. The chariots of the Appian Way, drawn by the fastest horses of ancient Italy, formed a dismal cortege in comparison with the sprightly procession of stage coaches on the old American highway. The grandeur of the old mail coach is riveted forever in the memory of the pike boy. To see it ascending a long hill, increasing speed, when nearing the summit, then moving rapidly over the intervening level to the top of the next hill, and dashing down it, a driver like the stately Redding Bunting wielding the whip and handling the reins, revealed a scene that will never be forgotten. And there was another feature of the old stage lines that left a lasting mark on memory’s tablet. It was the “Postilion.” A groom with two horses was stationed at the foot of many of the long hills, and added to the ordinary team of four horses to aid in making the ascent. The summit gained, the extra horses were quickly detached and returned to await and aid the next coming coach, and this was the “Postilion.” Nathan Hutton is a well remembered old postilion. He was a tall, spare man, and lived in a small log house on the roadside, a short distance west of the old Johnson tavern, and four and a half miles east of Brownsville. At the foot of the hill below his house, he re-enforced the coaches with his postilion both ways, east and west, up Colley’s hill, going west, and the equally long hill, coming east from that point. When he wanted a man or horse to be faithful to duty he exhorted him to “stand by his ’tarnal integrity.” The old postilion bade adieu to the scenes of earth long ago, and nothing is left to indicate the spot where his lowly dwelling stood except a few perishing quince bushes.

Hanson Willison, of Cumberland, when a boy rode postilion for Samuel Luman, and for Alfred Bailes. John Evans and Jacob Hoblitzell rode postilion through the mountains, east of Keyser’s Ridge. Martin Massey rode out from Brownsville, and Thomas M. Fee, now crier of the courts of Fayette county, Pennsylvania, rode out from Uniontown, over Laurel Hill.

Excitement followed in the wake of the coaches all along the road. Their arrival in the towns was the leading event of each day, and they were so regular in transit that farmers along the road knew the exact hour by their coming, without the aid of watch or clock. They ran night and day alike. Relays of fresh horses were placed at intervals of twelve miles, as nearly as practicable. Ordinarily a driver had charge of one team only, which he drove and cared for. Mail drivers, however, in many instances, drove three or four teams and more, which were cared for by grooms at the stations. Teams were changed almost in the twinkling of an eye. The coach was driven rapidly to the station, where a fresh team stood ready harnessed and waiting on the roadside. The moment the team came to a halt the driver threw down the reins, and almost instantly the incoming team was detached, the fresh one attached, the reins thrown back to the driver, who did not leave his seat, and away again went the coach at full speed, the usual group of loafers, meanwhile, looking on and enjoying the exciting scene. The horses used were showy and superb, the admiration of all who beheld them. Mr. Stockton had a strain called the “Murat,” and another known as the “Winflower,” which have become extinct, but many expert horsemen contend that they have not, in later days, been surpassed for nerve, beauty or speed. A peculiar affliction came upon many of the “wheel horses,” expressed by the phrase “sprung in the knees.” It is said to have been produced by the efforts of the horses in “holding back,” while descending the long and steep hills.

There was one mail coach that was especially imposing. On its gilded sides appeared the picture of a post boy, with flying horse and horn, and beneath it in gilt letters this awe inspiring inscription:

“He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

News from all nations lumbering at his back.”

No boy who beheld that old coach will ever forget it. The coaches were all handsomely and artistically painted and ornamented, lined inside with soft silk plush. There were three seats furnished with luxurious cushions, and three persons could sit comfortably on each, so that nine passengers made a full load as far as the interior was concerned. A seat by the side of the driver was more coveted in fair weather than a seat within. During the prosperous era of the road it was not uncommon to see as many as fifteen coaches in continuous procession, and both ways, east and west, there would be thirty each day.