The Old Pike Part 19

Frederic county, Maryland, contributed the following: John Crampton, Joseph Crampton, Samuel Brewer, Ross Fink, Grafton Shawn, Henry Smith, Jacob Wagoner, John Fink, John Miller, William Miller, and Henry McGruder.

Jacob and James Tamon were of Baltimore.

James Walker, Daniel Keiser, John Keiser, and Sharp Walker were of Franklin county, Pennsylvania.

The home of the regular wagoner was on the road, and a good home it was, in so far as mere subsistence and stimulus to the senses were concerned, and it is his nativity, that the author has endeavored to note. Regulars and sharpshooters are listed herein indiscriminately, but a majority of the names given as of Fayette county, Pennsylvania, are those of sharpshooters. The residences and homes of the following old wagoners could not be accurately ascertained, but they are familiar names, all well remembered by old inhabitants of the roadside, viz: William Kieger (a lively fellow, and a "regular"), James Dunbar, William Keefer, Rafe Rutlege, Samuel Jackson, Benjamin Hunter, David Greenland, John Strauser, Jacob c.o.x, Jonathan Whitton, Gus Mitch.e.l.l, Samuel Dowly, James Patton, Joseph Freeman, James Hall, William Purcell, Samuel Rogers, John Nye, Israel Young, James Davis, Jacob Beem, Isaac Young, Martin Irwin, James Parsons, James Kennedy, Isaac Shaffer, John Lynch, Michael Longstaff, George Nouse, Peter Penner, James Shaffer, John McClure, John c.o.x, William c.o.x, Joseph Cheney, Frank Mowdy, Caldwell Shobworth, James Jolly, Andrew Sheverner, Jacob and James Layman, John Crampton, Henry Smith, William Miller, John Miller, Henry McGruder, Elias McGruder, Michael Miller, John Seibert, Henry Stickle, Ezra Young, Jonas Speelman, David Connor, Eli Smith, Jacob Everson, Nathaniel Everson. Joseph Shaw, James Irvin, John Chain, William Wiglington, Doug. Shearl, Marion Ritchie, John Vand.y.k.e, John Alphen, Daniel Carlisle, George Burke, Thomas Ogden, Michael Abbott, Charles Genewine, Herman Rolf, Isaac Manning.

The following letters from Jesse J. Peirsol, now a prosperous farmer of Franklin towns.h.i.+p, Fayette county, Pennsylvania, of vigorous health and unimpaired memory, furnish a graphic description of life on the road in its palmy days:

December 3, 1892.

MR. T. B. SEARIGHT:

_Dear Sir_: I have stayed over night with William Sheets, on n.i.g.g.e.r mountain, when there would be thirty six-horse teams on the wagon yard, one hundred Kentucky mules in an adjacent lot, one thousand hogs in other enclosures, and as many fat cattle from Illinois in adjoining fields. The music made by this large number of hogs, in eating corn on a frosty night, I will never forget. After supper and attention to the teams, the wagoners would gather in the bar room and listen to music on the violin, furnished by one of their fellows, have a "Virginia hoe-down," sing songs, tell anecdotes, and hear the experience of drivers and drovers from all points on the road, and when it was all over, unroll their beds, lay them down on the floor before the bar room fire, side by side, and sleep, with their feet near the fire, as soundly as under the paternal roof. Coming out from c.u.mberland in the winter of 1851 or 1852, we stopped one night with Hiram Sutton, at Sand Springs, near Frostburg. The night was hazy, but not cold. We sat on our buckets, turned bottom up, and listened to a hundred horses grinding corn. One of our number got up in the night and complained that snow was falling on his face. This aroused us all, and we got up, went to the door and witnessed the most blinding snow storm I ever saw. Some of the horses broke loose from the tongue, and we had difficulty in finding them. We stayed up till morning, when the snow had risen to the hubs of the front wheels. We hitched eight or ten horses to a wagon, pulled out to c.o.o.nrod's tavern, one mile west, and returned to Sutton's for another wagon, and in this way all reached c.o.o.nrod's. The next morning we pulled out again, and on little Savage mountain found the snow deeper than ever, and a gang of men engaged in shoveling it from the road. I got stuck and had to be shoveled out. We reached Tom Johnson's that night, making three miles in two days. The next day John Ullery, one of our number upset at Peter Yeast's, and a barrel of Venetian Red rolled out from his wagon, which painted the snow red for many miles, east and west. We stayed with Yeast the third night after the storm. In the winter of 1848 a gang of us went down, loaded with tobacco, bacon, lard, cheese, flour, corn, oats and other products. One of our number was an Ohio man, named McBride. His team consisted of seven horses, the seventh being the leader. His load consisted of nine hogsheads of tobacco, five standing upright in the bed of his wagon, and four resting crosswise on top of the five. The hogsheads were each about four feet high and three and a half feet in diameter at the bulge, and weighing from nine to eleven hundred pounds each. This made a "top-heavy load," and on the hill west of Somerfield, and near Tom Brown's tavern, the road icy, McBride's load tumbled over, the tobacco in the ditches, and the horses piled up in all shapes. The work of restoring the wreck was tedious, and before we got through with it we had the aid of thirty or forty wagoners not of our company. Of course the occasion brought to the ground a supply of the pure old whisky of that day, which was used in moderation and produced no bad effects. After we had righted up our unfortunate fellow wagoner, we pushed on and rested over night at Dan Augustine's, east of Petersburg.

Yours truly, JESSE J. PEIRSOL.

ANOTHER LETTER FROM THE SAME PERSON ON THE SAME SUBJECT.

February 2, 1893.

In September, 1844 or 5, my father came home from Uniontown late at night, and woke me up to tell me that there had been a big break in the Pennsylvania Ca.n.a.l, and that all western freights were coming out over the National Road in wagons. The stage coaches brought out posters soliciting teams. By sunrise next morning, I was in Brownsville with my team, and loaded up at Ca.s.s's warehouse with tobacco, bacon, and wool, and whipped off for c.u.mberland. I drove to Hopwood the first day and stayed over night with John Wallace. That night Thomas Snyder, a Virginia wagoner, came into Hopwood with a load of flour from a back country mill. When we got beyond Laurel Hill, Snyder retailed his flour by the barrel to the tavern keepers, and was all sold out when we reached c.o.o.nrod's tavern, on Big Savage. I was a mere boy, and Snyder was especially kind and attentive to me. After we pulled on to c.o.o.nrod's yard Snyder told me to unhitch and feed, but leave the harness on. At midnight we rose, hitched up, Snyder lending me two horses, making me a team of eight, pulled out, and reached c.u.mberland that night. On leaving c.o.o.nrod's the night was dark, and I shall never forget the sounds of crunching stones under the wheels of my wagon, and the streaks of fire rolling out from the horses' feet. In c.u.mberland, we found the commission houses, and the cars on sidings filled with goods, and men cursing loudly because the latter were not unloaded. Large boxes of valuable goods were likewise on the platform of the station, protected by armed guards. After unloading my down load I re-loaded at McKaig & Maguire's commission house for Brownsville, at one dollar and twenty-five cents a hundred. We reached Brownsville without incident or accident, made a little money, and loaded back again for c.u.mberland. On my return I found plenty of goods for s.h.i.+pment, and loaded up at Tuttle's house for Wheeling, at two dollars and twenty-five cents a hundred. In coming back, it looked as if the whole earth was on the road; wagons, stages, horses, cattle, hogs, sheep, and turkeys without number. Teams of every description appeared in view, from the ma.s.sive outfit of Governor Lucas down to the old bates. .h.i.tched to a chicken coop. The commission merchants, seeing the mult.i.tude of wagons, sought to reduce prices, whereupon the old wagoners called a meeting and made a vigorous kick against the proposed reduction. It was the first strike I ever heard of. Nothing worried a sharpshooter more than lying at expense in c.u.mberland waiting for a load. Two of the "sharps," unwilling to endure the delay caused by the strike, drove their four-horse rigs to a warehouse to load at the reduction. This excited the "regulars," and they ma.s.sed with horns, tin buckets, oyster-cans and the like, and made a descent upon the "sharps," pelting and guying them unmercifully. An old wagoner named Butler commanded the striking regulars with a pine sword, and marched them back and forth through the streets. Finally the police quelled the disturbance, and the "sharps" loaded up and drove out sixteen miles, to find their harness cut and their axles sawed off in the morning. In this dilemma an old regular, going down empty for a load, took the contract of the "sharps," and made them promise to never return on the road, a promise they faithfully kept.

Yours truly, JESSE J. PEIRSOL.

Many old wagoners wore a curious garment called a hunting s.h.i.+rt. It was of woolen stuff, after the style of "blue jeans," with a large cape trimmed with red. It was called a hunting s.h.i.+rt because first used by hunters in the mountains.

The origin of Pennsylvania tobies is worth recording, and pertinent to the history of the old wagoners. The author is indebted to J. V.

Thompson, esq., president of the First National bank of Uniontown, for the following clipping from a Philadelphia paper concerning the "toby:"

"It appears that in the old days the drivers of the Conestoga wagons, so common years ago on our National Road, used to buy very cheap cigars. To meet this demand a small cigar manufacturer in Was.h.i.+ngton, Pennsylvania, whose name is lost to fame, started in to make a cheap 'roll-up' for them at four for a cent. They became very popular with the drivers, and were at first called Conestoga cigars; since, by usage, corrupted into 'stogies' and 'tobies.' It is now estimated that Pennsylvania and West Virginia produce about 200,000,000 tobies yearly, probably all for home consumption."

[Ill.u.s.tration: JAMES SMITH, OF HENRY.]

It is probable that the manufacturer referred to in the above was George Black, as that gentleman made "tobies" in Was.h.i.+ngton at an early day, and continued in the business for many years, and until he became quite wealthy. In his later days his trade was very large and profitable. Old wagoners hauled his "tobies" over the road in large quant.i.ties, as they did subsequently the Wheeling "tobies," which were, and continued to be, a favorite brand. Many habitual smokers prefer a Was.h.i.+ngton or a Wheeling "toby" to an alleged fine, high priced cigar, and the writer of these lines is one of them. As has been noted, the "rubber," called brake at this day, was not in use when the National Road was first thrown open for trade and travel. Instead, as related by John Deets, sapplings, cut at the summit of the hills, were shaped and fas.h.i.+oned to answer the ends of the "rubber," and at the foot of the hills taken off and left on the roadside. E. B. Dawson, esq., the well known, well posted and accurate antiquarian of Uniontown, and, by the way, deeply interested in the history of the National Road, is authority for the statement that one Jones, of Bridgeport, Fayette county, Pennsylvania, claimed to be the inventor of the "rubber." He, however, never succeeded in obtaining letters patent, if, indeed, he ever applied. There were other claimants, among them the Slifers, of Maryland, mentioned elsewhere in these pages. The real and true inventor seems to be unknown, and yet it is an invention of vast importance, and with legal protection would have yielded the inventor an immense fortune.

Old wagoners, as a cla.s.s, were robust, hardy, honest and jovial. But one of the long list is remembered as a criminal. His name was Ben Pratt, and he belonged to Philadelphia. He turned out to be a counterfeiter of coin and currency, and suffered the punishment that all counterfeiters deserve. Many old wagoners were fond of fun and frolic, but very few of them were intemperate, although they had the readiest opportunities for unrestrained drinking. Every old tavern had its odd shaped little bar, ornamented in many instances with fancy lattice work, and well stocked with whiskey of the purest distillation, almost as cheap as water. In fact all kinds of liquors were kept at the old taverns of the National Road, except the impure stuff of the present day. The bottles used were of plain gla.s.s, each marked in large letters with the name of the liquor it contained, and the old landlord would place these bottles on the narrow counter of the little bar, in the presence of a room filled with wagoners, so that all could have free access to them. None of the old tavern keepers made profit from the sales of liquor. They kept it more for the accommodation of their guests, than for money making purposes.

There was probably a tavern on every mile of the road, between c.u.mberland and Wheeling, and all combined did not realize as much profit from the sales of liquor in a year as is realized in that time by one licensed hotel keeper of Uniontown, at the present day.

When, at last, the Conestoga horse yielded up the palm to the Iron horse, and it became manifest that the glory of the old road was departing, never to return, the old wagoners, many of whom had spent their best days on the road, sang in chorus the following lament:

"Now all ye jolly wagoners, who have got good wives, Go home to your farms, and there spend your lives.

When your corn is all cribbed, and your small grain is good, You'll have nothing to do but curse the railroad."

CHAPTER XXI.

_Stage Drivers, Stage Lines and Stage Coaches--The Postilion--Changing Horses--He comes, the Herald of a Noisy World--Pioneer Proprietors--Peter Burdine and his Little Rhyme--Anecdote of Thomas Corwin--Johny Ritter--Daniel Brown, his sad Ending--Soldier Drivers--Redding Bunting--Joseph and William Woolley--Andrew J.

Wable--James Burr._

"My uncle rested his head upon his hands and thought of the busy bustling people who had rattled about, years before, in the old coaches, and were now as silent and changed; he thought of the numbers of people to whom once, those crazy, mouldering vehicles had borne, night after night, for many years, and through all weathers, the anxiously expected intelligence, the eagerly looked for remittance, the promised a.s.surances of health and safety, the sudden announcement of sickness and death. The merchant, the lover, the wife, the widow, the mother, the school boy, the very child who tottered to the door at the postman's knock--how had they all looked forward to the arrival of the old coach! And where were they all now?"--_Charles d.i.c.kens._

[Ill.u.s.tration: STAGE COACH]

Stage drivers as a cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s, the reader who is familiar with the old road will readily recall Redding Bunting, Samuel Luman, Elliott Seaburn, Watty n.o.ble, 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 das.h.i.+ng 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 peris.h.i.+ng quince bushes.

Hanson Willison, of c.u.mberland, 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 Ma.s.sey 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 hors.e.m.e.n contend that they have not, in later days, been surpa.s.sed 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 cus.h.i.+ons, and three persons could sit comfortably on each, so that nine pa.s.sengers 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.

James Kinkead, Jacob Sides and Abraham Russell put on the first line of pa.s.senger coaches west of c.u.mberland, and as early as 1818 John and Andrew Shaffer, Garrett Clark, Aaron Wyatt, Morris Mauler, John Farrell, Quill and Nathan Smith, and Peter Null, were drivers on this line. The Smiths and Null drove in and out from Uniontown. One of the Smiths subsequently became the agent of a stage line in Ohio. James Kinkead, above mentioned, was the senior member of the firm of Kinkead, Beck and Evans, who built most of the large stone bridges on the line of the road. This early line of stages was owned and operated in sections.

Kinkead owned the line from Brownsville to Somerfield; Sides, from Somerfield to the Little Crossings, and thence to c.u.mberland Russell was the proprietor. Kinkead sold his section to George Dawson, of Brownsville, and Alpheus Beall, of c.u.mberland, bought out Russell's interest. This line was subsequently purchased by, and merged in, the National Road Stage Company, the princ.i.p.al and most active member of which was Lucius W. Stockton. The other members of this company were Daniel Moore, of Was.h.i.+ngton, Pennsylvania, Richard Stokes and Moore N.

Falls, of Baltimore, and Dr. Howard Kennedy, of Hagerstown, Maryland.

After the death of Mr. Stockton, in 1844, Dr. Kennedy and Mr. Acheson were the active members of the firm. John W. Weaver put a line of stages on the road at an early day, known as the People's Line. After a short run it was withdrawn from the road east of Wheeling, and transferred to the Ohio division. Previous to 1840, James Reeside put on a line which Mr. Stockton nick-named the "June Bug," for the reason, as he alleged, it would not survive the coming of the June bugs. Mr. Stockton subsequently bought out this line and consolidated it with his own.

There was a line of stages on the road called the "Good Intent," which came to stay, and did stay until driven off by the irresistible force of the Steam King. This line was owned by Shriver, Steele & Company, and was equal in vim, vigor and general equipment to the Stockton line. The headquarters of the Good Intent line at Uniontown was the McClelland house. There pa.s.sengers took their meals, and the horses were kept in the stables appurtenant. The "old line" (Stockton's) had its headquarters at the National house, on Morgantown street, now the private residence of that worthy and well known citizen, Thomas Batton.

This little _bon mot_ is one among a thousand, ill.u.s.trative of the spirit of the compet.i.tion between these rival lines. There was one Peter Burdine, a driver on the Good Intent line, noted for his das.h.i.+ng qualities, who was accustomed to give vent to his fidelity to his employers, and his confidence in himself in these words:

"If you take a seat in Stockton's line, You are sure to be pa.s.sed by Pete Burdine."

And this became a popular ditty all along the road.

On authority of Hanson Willison, the old stage driver of c.u.mberland, the first line of stages put on the road east of c.u.mberland, in opposition to the Stockton line, was owned, from Frederic to Hagerstown, by Hutchinson and Wirt; from Hagerstown to Piney Plains, by William F.

Steele; from Piney Plains to c.u.mberland, by Thomas Shriver.

Thomas Corwin, the famous Ohio statesman and popular orator of the olden time, was not a stage driver, but he was a wagoner, and one of the rallying cries of his friends, in the campaign that resulted in his election as governor, was: "Hurrah for Tom Corwin, the wagoner boy."

The introduction of his name, in connection with stages and stage drivers, becomes pertinent in view of the following anecdote: Corwin was of very dark complexion, and among strangers, and in his time, when race distinction was more p.r.o.nounced than now, often taken for a negro. On one occasion, while he was a member of Congress, he pa.s.sed over the road in a "chartered coach," in company with Henry Clay, a popular favorite all along the road, and other distinguished gentlemen, en route for the capital. A chartered coach was one belonging to the regular line, but hired for a trip, and controlled by the parties engaging it. The party stopped one day for dinner at an old "stage tavern," kept by Samuel Cessna, at the foot of "Town Hill," also known as "Snib Hollow,"

twenty-five miles east of c.u.mberland. Cessna was fond of entertaining guests, and particularly ardent in catering to distinguished travelers.

He was, therefore, delighted when this party entered his house. He had seen Mr. Clay before, and knew him. The tall form of Mr. Corwin attracted his attention, and he noted specially his swarthy complexion, heard his traveling companions call him "Tom," and supposed he was the servant of the party. The first thing after the order for dinner was a suggestion of something to relieve the tedium of travel, and excite the appet.i.te for the antic.i.p.ated dinner, and it was brandy, genuine old cogniac, which was promptly brought to view by the zealous old landlord.

Brandy was the "tony" drink of the old pike--brandy and loaf sugar, and it was often lighted by a taper and burnt, under the influence of a popular tradition that "if burnt brandy couldn't save a man" in need of physical tension, his case was hopeless. When the brandy was produced, the party, with the exception of Corwin, stepped up to the bar and each took a gla.s.s. Corwin, to encourage the illusion of the old landlord, stood back. In a patronizing way the landlord proffered a gla.s.s to Corwin, saying: "Tom, you take a drink." Corwin drank off the gla.s.s, and in an humble manner returned it to the landlord with modest thanks.

Dinner was next announced, and when the party entered the dining room, a side table was observed for use of the servant, as was the custom at all old taverns on the road at that time. Corwin, at once recognizing the situation, sat down alone at the side table, while the other gentlemen occupied the main table. The dinner was excellent, as all were at the old taverns on the National Road, and while undergoing discussion, Mr.

Clay occasionally called out to the lone occupant of the side table: "How are you getting on, Tom?" to which the modest response was, "Very well." After dinner the old landlord produced a box of fine cigars, and first serving the distinguished guests, took one from the box and in his hand proffered it to Mr. Corwin, with the remark: "Take a cigar, Tom?"

When it was announced that the coach was in readiness to proceed on the journey, Mr. Clay took Corwin's arm, and, approaching the old landlord, said: "Mr. Cessna, permit me to introduce the Hon. Thomas Corwin, of Ohio." Cessna was thunder-struck. His mortification know no bounds.

Observing his mental agony, Mr. Corwin restored him to equanimity by saying: "It was all a joke, Mr. Cessna; do not, I beg you, indulge in the slightest feeling of mortification. I expect to be back this way before long, and will call again to renew acquaintance, and take another good dinner with you."

John Ritter, affectionately and invariably, by his acquaintances, called "Johnny," was noted for his honesty and steady habits. For many years after staging ceased on the road, he was a familiar figure about Was.h.i.+ngton, Pennsylvania. He a.s.sisted Major Hammond for thirty years in conducting the Valentine house, and acted as agent for Brimmer's line of mail hacks, and other similar lines, after the great mail and pa.s.senger lines were withdrawn. He was a bachelor, and a soldier of 1812, and drew a small pension. He died at the Valentine house, in Was.h.i.+ngton, on January 28th, 1879, in the eightieth year of his age, leaving behind him a good name and many friends.

The first line of pa.s.senger coaches put on the road between Brownsville and Wheeling was owned, organized and operated by Stephen Hill and Simms and Pemberton. This was in 1818, and a continuation of the early line before mentioned from c.u.mberland to Brownsville. Stephen Hill, while a stage proprietor, was also a tavern keeper in Hillsboro, Was.h.i.+ngton county, a small town, but an old town, which probably derived its name from his family. Under the inspiration of modern reformation, so called, the name of this old town has been changed and languishes now under the romantic appellation of Scenery Hill. When it was Hillsboro, and a stage station of the old pike, it was a lively little town. Under its present picturesque name it remains a little town, but not a lively one.

The change of name, however, has not yet penetrated the thinned ranks of the old pike boys, and they still refer to it as Hillsboro.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WILLIAM WHALEY.]