In the early annals of our country, many instances of mail robbery are found, some of which occasioned the display of great intrepidity and daring, as the perusal of the following pages will show.

While the country was yet thinly settled, and the mails were transported on horseback, or in different kinds of vehicles, from the gig to the stage-coach, often through extensive forests, which afforded every facility for robbery, the office of stage driver or mail carrier was no sinecure. Resolute men were required for this service, who on an emergency could handle a pistol as well as a whip.

Some thirty or forty years ago, a mail-coach ran in the northern part of the state of New York, through the famous "Chateaugay woods." The forest was many miles in extent, and common fame and many legends gave it the reputation of a noted place for freebooters and highwaymen.

One morning the stage driver on this route had occasion to examine his pistols, and found, instead of the usual charge, that they were loaded with wheat bran! A daring villain had, through an accomplice, thus disarmed the driver, preparatory to waylaying him. He drew the charges, cleaned the weapons, and carefully loaded them with powder and ball.

That afternoon he mounted his stage for his drive through the Chateaugay woods. There was not a passenger in his vehicle. Whistling as he went, he "cracked up" his leaders, and drove into the forest. Just about the centre of the woods a man sprang out from behind a tree, and seized the horses by the bit.

"I say, driver," said the footpad, with consummate coolness. "I want to take a look at that mail."

"Yes, you do, no doubt, want to overhaul my mails," replies the driver; "but I can't be so free, unless you show me your commission. I'm driver here, and I never give up my mails except to one regularly authorized."

"O, you don't, eh? well, here's my authority," showing the butt of a large pistol partly concealed in his bosom. "Now dismount and bear a hand, my fine fellow, for you see I've got the documents about me."

"Yes, and so've I," says the driver, instantly leveling his own trusty weapon at the highwayman.

"O! you won't hurt nobody, I guess; I've seen boys playing soger before now."

"Just drop those reins," says the keeper of Uncle Sam's mail bags, "or take the consequences."

"O! now your'e joking, my fine lad! but come, look alive, for I'm in a hurry, it's nearly night."

A sharp report echoed through the forest, and the disciple of Dick Turpin lay stretched upon the ground. One groan and all was over. The ball had entered his temple.

The driver lifted the body into the coach, drove to the next stopping place, related the circumstances, and gave himself up. A brief examination before a magistrate resulted in his acquittal, and highwaymen about the Chateaugay woods learned that pistols might be dangerous weapons, even if they were loaded with wheat bran, provided they were in the hands of one who knew how to use them.

Another exciting case occurred near Utica, early in the present century, when Western and Northern New York was a wilderness.

An old rogue, who had long been steeped in crime, finding his companions nearly all gone—the prisons and gallows having claimed their own—and his material resources nearly exhausted, sought for a profitable alliance. He succeeded in getting into familiarity with a very young man, son of a gentleman of standing and reputation, a worthy citizen and an honest man. These two laid their plans for robbing the mail. Considerable sums of money were known to pass constantly in the great mail running East and West.

Watching their opportunity, they stopped the coach one night when there were no passengers. The driver was bold and faithful to his charge, and made a stout resistance. They tied him to a tree, and opened the mail. Fearing detection and not obtaining much money, the veteran villain drew his pistol and shot the poor driver. As in most criminal transactions, fortune went against the perpetrators. They were both taken, and sufficient evidence being produced, they were sentenced to be hanged.

Though there was but one opinion as to the comparative culpability of the two individuals, no one could say but that both were equally guilty, in a legal sense, of the murder. Out of respect to the parents of the young man, great efforts were made to obtain a pardon, but they were unsuccessful.

Both the sentences were carried into execution. The circumstance gave rise to a thorough discussion of the policy, the humanity, and the right or wrong of Capital Punishment. One of the most powerful arguments ever made against the death penalty, was written by the father of the younger criminal, and obtained a wide circulation in pamphlet form.

In the summer of 1851, a company of travelers were seated in the mail stage that runs from Mexico to Vera Cruz. Marauding parties of guerillas had often stopped the mail, and when practicable, robbed the passengers. Sometimes returning Californians, and other travelers, gave these freebooters a rather warm reception.

On the present occasion there were but three or four passengers, some of whom were armed with small revolvers. Suddenly a party of mounted guerillas appeared, nearly a dozen in number, and at once stopped the coach and ordered the passengers out.

Either from fear or collusion, the drivers never interfere, but remain neutral. Probably, if they resisted, their lives would pay the forfeit. The passengers, supposing there was no hope of escape but to give up their watches and money, commenced "paying over."

A young English gentleman in one corner of the coach, immediately took up a double-barreled gun and shot the villain at the door of the coach, and then with the other barrel killed another of the party, by shooting him off his horse. He then drew a revolver, and jumped out. The other travelers concluded, like Wellington's reserve at Waterloo, that they might as well "up and at 'em," and, quite unprepared for such a reception, the freebooters—the surviving ones—fled with precipitation. The papers resounded with the praises of "this fine young English gentleman, all of the modern time."

His father was a distinguished member of Parliament, and soon had the pleasure of meeting his son, who had been abroad and shown that he was made of the right kind of stuff for a traveler in a dangerous country.