When Mr. Greeley was in California, ovations awaited him at every town. He had written powerful leaders in the Tribune in favor of the Pacific Railroad, which had greatly endeared him to the citizens of the Golden State. And therefore they made much of him when he went to see them.
At one town the enthusiastic populace tore his celebrated white coat to pieces and carried the pieces home to remember him by.
The citizens of Placerville prepared to fête the great journalist, and an extra coach with extra relays of horses was chartered of the California Stage Company to carry him from Folsom to Placerville--distance, forty miles. The extra was in some way delayed, and did not leave Folsom until late in the afternoon. Mr. Greeley was to be fêted at seven o'clock that evening by the citizens of Placerville, and it was altogether necessary that he should be there by that time. So the Stage Company said to Henry Monk, the driver of the extra, "Henry, this great man must be there by seven to-night." And Henry answered, "The great man shall be there."
The roads were in an awful state, and during the first few miles out of Folsom slow progress was made.
"Sir," said Mr. Greeley, "are you aware that I must be in Placerville at seven o'clock to-night?"
"I've got my orders!" laconically replied Henry Monk.
Still the coach dragged slowly forward.
"Sir," said Mr. Greeley, "this is not a trifling matter. I must be there at seven!"
Again came the answer, "I've got my orders!"
But the speed was not increased, and Mr. Greeley chafed away another half-hour; when, as he was again about to remonstrate with the driver, the horses suddenly started into a furious run, and all sorts of encouraging yells filled the air from the throat of Henry Monk.