The Pacific States have several important stage lines of a local character, and some of them have acquired a national reputation. Every visitor to California can tell about the drive to the Geysers, or the road to the Yosemite Valley, where teams of six and eight horses are driven at full speed around sharp turns, and a mishap might send coach and passengers whirling a thousand feet down the mountain side. Those who have journeyed north from California to Oregon are familiar with the mountain ride of three hundred miles between the termini of the railways of the two states, and there are several interior places of importance where the railway has not yet penetrated. The newer states and territories have a considerable number of stage routes in operation, and in the summer season the whip of the stage-driver is heard among the mountains of the eastern states, and in other pleasure-resorts where the denizen of the city seeks coolness and relaxation.
For traveling by stage-coach in America the preparations are not numerous. If the journey is to be one of several days you will need a strong constitution, as the luxuries of a palace-car, or an ocean steamship, are not to be found on the horse-propelled vehicle. Have a suit of clothes as near the color of dust as possible, and, if your sex is masculine, cut your hair and beard so that your head will resemble that of a pugilist, or the back of a bull-dog. Carry very little baggage, the least you can possibly get along with, and don't keep it where it will get in your way. Find a rear seat in the coach, and, if in winter, try to have it on the side favored by the sun. Of course you will try for a corner seat, and, if you get it, you will be all right. These things accomplished, resign yourself to fate and the care of the driver.
On a long ride by stage-coach you will naturally wonder how you are to sleep. For the first twenty-four hours you have a hard time of it, and your first night's sleep will be principally made up of wakefulness. But Nature will assert herself; the second night is quite comfortable, while on the succeeding nights you find yourself sleeping as well as in your bed at home, at least so far as obtaining relief from weariness is concerned. If you have never tried it you will be astonished to find how little you are fatigued after a ride of five or ten days.
In regions where there are highwaymen, facetiously termed "road agents" by the Californians, carry as little money as possible, and leave your valuable gold watch behind. You may have a revolver if you like, but it is generally of very little use, as the robbers come on you in such numbers, or under such circumstances, that your weapons cannot be employed. Generally the first intimation of their presence is the protrusion of several rifles or pistols into the windows of the coach, with a request, more or less polite, for you to hand over your valuables. When you have no alternative but to hand over, do so with alacrity, and lead your assailants to think it the happiest moment of your life. If you are compelled, as often happens, to step outside the vehicle and hold your hands in the air while standing in line with the other passengers, try and hold them a little higher, and be more in line, than anybody else. Where resistance is useless do not make the least attempt to oppose your uninvited interviewers, as they are a fastidious set of gentlemen, and regard with suspicion any movement of your hand towards your hip-pocket. The traveler who accepts the situation, and conducts himself philosophically under such circumstances, runs very little risk of bodily harm; the robbers are after his valuables and not his life, as it is not the least use to them, and they are unwilling to take it except in self-defense, or to aid their search for his personal property.
American highwaymen have not yet learned the art of carrying travelers away and holding them for ransom. This accomplishment is of Italian origin, and flourishes in Italy, Sicily, and other parts of Southern Europe. It was introduced into Mexico by the Italian emigrants who went there with Maximilian, and prevails to some extent in South America.
Accidents on stage-coaches are much more rare than one might expect when the occasional badness of the roads and the apparently reckless driving are considered. The fact is the driving is more reckless in appearance than in reality; the stage companies generally employ men who understand their business, though they may not be altogether Chesterfieldian in their manners. If you have any doubts as to the merits of the man who is to conduct you they can be generally settled by consultation with the agents of the company; the story they tell you may not be true, but there will be a vast amount of comfort in it.
A great many stories, mostly apocryphal, are told of stage accidents in the far west. One is to the effect that a driver once informed a timid traveler that nobody was ever hurt on his stage, though a good many had been killed. The stranger naturally asked an explanation, and received the following:
"There used to be a good many accidents," said he, "and lots of people were killed or wounded. The killed ones didn't make any fuss; the company just settled with their relatives, and that was the end of it, but them that was hurt made a good deal of trouble. They were always bringing suits for damages for large amounts, and generally getting 'em, and so I made up my mind to put a stop to it. When we have an accident nowadays I just take a linch-pin and go round and finish up all the wounded ones, and we find things going on much better."
For a short ride in good weather an outside seat is preferable, especially where there is fine scenery along the route. The place by the driver is usually the post of honor, and if that worthy is talkative, as he generally is, a good deal of information can be gleaned from him. He is usually unaffected by temperance principles, and a pull at a flask will serve to loosen the cords of his tongue.
The American coaches are of varied size and construction, according to the character of the roads where they are used. The old-fashioned stage-coach usually had a capacity for carrying twenty-one passengers, twelve inside and nine out, and was suspended on leathern braces. The form is still retained in the so-called Troy coaches and Concord coaches, but in many vehicles steel springs have taken the place of leather. A form of coach largely used in the far west is the "mud-wagon," which can traverse routes impassable for the larger and heavier carriage, and is specially preferred where the roads are bad. On some of the California routes, when the roads are moulting in the spring, there is often a depth of several inches of mud, and only the lightest vehicles can pass through it.