The first Mail Coaches—The stage yard at Uniontown—Employees therein—Mr. Stockton goes back on John Tyler—Names of Coaches—Henry Clay and the drivers—Anecdote of Clay, and Humes, of Claysville—Jenny Lind and Phineas T. Barnum on the road—Exciting race between an old liner and a Good Intent driver—Old Mount, the Giant of the road—Sim Houser, Archie McNeil, Watty Noble, the Nestor of stage drivers, and other familiar names.

The first mail coaches were arranged to carry but three passengers, in addition to the mail pouches, upon a model furnished by the postoffice department. Drivers and residents along the road called the passenger compartment of the early mail coach a “monkey box.” This was at the front end of the vehicle, and rested on springs, and the mail pouches were placed behind it, on a lower plane, and in a long, tight, wooden box or bed, resting on the axles of the wagon, without springs. It made a loud noise when passing over the road, was altogether a curious contrivance, and after a short term of usage was abandoned, and the ordinary passenger coach substituted in its stead. Mr. Stockton established a coach factory in Uniontown, where many of the coaches of his line were made, and as necessity from time to time existed, repaired. Blacksmith shops were also set up in connection with this factory, where the stage horses of the Stockton line were shod. It was called the “stage yard,” and located on Morgantown street, on the lot now covered by the residence and grounds of the Hon. Nathaniel Ewing. Many mechanics in different lines of work were employed in the “stage yard,” and some of them still linger on the shores of time, and in Uniontown. [E]Philip Bogardus is probably the oldest of the surviving employees of the old stage yard, and is a well known and respected citizen of Uniontown. He was born in Dutchess county, New York, September 25, 1811, and came to Uniontown in 1838. On his journey to that place he halted for a season and worked at his trade, that of a coach trimmer, at Bloody Run, Bedford county, Pennsylvania, and there first met and formed the acquaintance of Henry Nycum, the well remembered and respected old blacksmith, who lived many years in Uniontown, and died there about a year ago. Soon after his arrival in Uniontown, Bogardus obtained employment in the stage yard. The foreman of the yard at the time was William Gaddis.

Next in seniority, among the surviving employees of the stage yard, is [F]Maj. William A. Donaldson, one of the best known citizens of Uniontown. He is a painter. He was born in Emmettsburg, Frederic county, Maryland, a village situate ten miles south of Gettysburg, on February 14, 1818, and came to Uniontown February 15, 1839. He located first at Brownsville, and remained there a year and upwards before going to Uniontown. His first engagement in Uniontown was with Col. William B. Roberts, in whose service he continued about a year, after which he entered the stage yard as a painter and ornamenter of coaches. He is not only a skillful artisan, but a gentleman well read in history, philosophy, theology, and politics, in short a good and useful citizen. When Dr. Braddee was first lodged in the Uniontown jail for robbing the mails, Maj. Donaldson called in the evening to see him. The accused was placed in charge of a special police force, which consisted of Zadoc Cracraft, George Martin, and Stewart Speers, who “stood guard” over the noted prisoner. Soon after Maj. Donaldson entered the jail the guardsmen informed him that they were very hungry, and desired to go down town to get some oysters, and requested him to remain in charge of the prisoner until they returned. To this Maj. Donaldson assented, provided the hungry guardsmen would speedily return. They went out for oysters and did not get back until one o’clock in the morning. The Major and the Doctor, being old acquaintances, spent the intervening time as pleasantly as circumstances would admit of, but it was not exactly the thing the Major had bargained for. Mr. Stockton had one of his coaches named John Tyler, in honor of the vice-president of the first Harrison administration. When Tyler, by the death of Harrison, succeeded to the presidency, and vetoed the United States bank bill, Mr. Stockton was very much angered thereat, and going into the stage yard, soon after the veto was announced, accosted Maj. Donaldson thus: “Donaldson, can’t you erase that name (pointing to the Tyler coach) and substitute another? I won’t have one of my coaches named for a traitor.” “Certainly I can,” replied Donaldson, “what shall the new name be?” “Call it Gen. Harrison,” said Stockton. “All right,” said Donaldson, and the change was made. Maj. Donaldson was a Democrat, and much amused by the incident.

Robert L. Barry, the well remembered old merchant of Uniontown, was, in his younger days, a painter in the old stage yard. Other painters in the stage yard were William McQuilken, William McMullin, William Crisfield, —— Mathiot, Ebenezer Matthews, George Starr, Alex. Fowler and Harrison Wiggins. Lewis Mobley was also a painter in the stage yard. He subsequently moved to Luzerne township, Fayette county, Pennsylvania, became a farmer and local politician. He had many good points of character and many warm friends. He died in Luzerne township a number of years ago. The Belfords, father and three sons, were of the stage yard force, workers in wood. They came from New Jersey, and were near relatives of the old and distinguished Presbyterian preacher, Rev. A. G. Fairchild, D.D. The Belfords went west, and in all probability have passed from earth to scenes beyond.

Armstrong Hadden, the old postmaster and banker, of Uniontown worked a number of years in the stage yard on harness and “thorough braces.” He learned his trade with Westley Frost, of Brownsville. Thorough braces were the leather springs, thick and wide, upon which the coach body was placed. Alex. McLean, the old clerk of the county commissioners, also worked on harness and braces.

Charles Brower was a trimmer. He came from Baltimore, and went from the stage yard in Uniontown to the State of Louisiana, since which time he has made no sign so far as known.

Abram Rogers was a worker on “thorough braces.” Other workers in wood were Isaac and Simon Sampsell, Israel Hogue, and Frank Wilkinson. Among the blacksmiths of the old stage yard were James Rush, who subsequently went to Washington, Pennsylvania, where he lived many years, and until his death, which occurred recently, Thomas Haymaker, and his son, Leroy, Thomas Stewart, Michael Claybaugh, Jesse King, Thomas King, James Keenan, Fred Reamer, Abram Haldeman, Seth White, Hugh Rogers, and Jacob, Isaac and Robert Prettyman.

The inevitable company store was connected with the stage yard, but it was not so odious then as now. It was located on Morgantown street, in the building now occupied by the Ellis music store, and managed by John Keffer, who is well remembered by all the old citizens of Uniontown. George Martin was a clerk in the company store. Coaches were all named after the manner of steamboats, and more recently, sleeping cars on the leading railroads. The name of every State of the Union was utilized for this purpose, and the realms of fancy were likewise explored. The coach named for Pennsylvania bore the legend Keystone State; Ohio was honored under the name Buckeye State, New Hampshire, the Granite State, Massachusetts, the Bay State, and so on. Among the fancy names employed, the old pike boy will readily recall the following: Fashion, Palmetto, Central Route, Jewess, Beauty, Pathfinder, Samaratan, Highlander, Ivanhoe, Herald, Industry, National, Republic, Protection, Brilliant, Atlas, Sultana, Clarendon, Chancellor, Moravian, Miantonoma, Loch Lomond. Warriors, statesmen and old stagers were remembered and honored in the names following: Washington, Lafayette, General Wayne, General St. Clair, General Jackson, General Harrison, Rough and Ready, meaning General Taylor, General Worth, General Cass, Colonel Benton, Madison, Monroe, Henry Clay, The President, James K. Polk, Purviance, Daniel Moore, L. W. Stockton, General Moorehead, David Shriver, William H. Stelle, James C. Acheson, Columbus, Pocahontas, Santa Anna. Countries and cities were honored in the names that follow: Yucatan, Green Bay, Oronoco, Tampico, Bangor, Mexico, Buena Vista, New Orleans, Erie, Lexington, Vicksburg, Natchez, Trenton, San Francisco, Mobile, Troy, Wyandott, Idaho, Ashland, Westmoreland, Allegany, Raritan, Youghiogheny, Gautemala, Panama, Hungarian, Montgomery, Paoli, Tuscaloosa. One coach took in a hemisphere, and was called America. Another was named Queen Victoria in the old stage days, as now, the reigning sovereign of England, while another rendered homage to dear old Ireland, by bearing the legend, Erin Go Bragh. When Harrison, the first, Polk and Taylor passed over the road to the capital, to be installed in the presidential office, a splendid new coach was provided for each occasion, called the President, in which the President-elect and his immediate family were conveyed. The presidential parties did not travel in the night time, but rested at stations along the road until morning. At Uniontown, President Harrison and party stopped over night at the Walker house, now called the Central. Polk lodged at the National and Taylor at the Clinton. The Walker and Clinton were not stage houses, but the distinguished passengers were quartered therein, respectively, for the purpose, probably, of conciliating some local political influences.

Henry Clay knew many of the old stage drivers personally, and would call them by name when he met them at different points along the road. He not only made acquaintances and friends of the drivers, but of the tavern keepers and persons in other employments on the road. David Mahaney, now living in Dunbar, kept tavern at various points on the mountain division of the road, and often entertained Mr. Clay, and became well acquainted with him. One Humes, of Claysville, was wont to boast of the familiarity with which he was recognized by Mr. Clay. While the teams were being changed at stations, Mr. Clay was in the habit of getting out of the coach and going in to the taverns. On occasion of one of these short stops, Humes was introduced to Mr. Clay. On the return trip, less than a year afterward, Humes heard of his coming, and hastened to the station to greet him. The coach was driven up and Mr. Clay got out, but before entering the tavern espied Humes approaching, and when near enough to be heard, said: “There comes my friend Humes,” and gave him a cordial hand-shaking. Humes was delighted, and never wearied in telling the story of his acquaintance with Clay.

When Jennie Lind, the world renowned songstress, made her first professional visit to the United States, she returned east from her western tour by way of the National Road, in company with her troupe, and in “chartered” coaches of the Stockton line. This was at least forty years ago, probably a little more than that. P. T. Barnum, the celebrated showman, was the great singer’s manager, and was with her on the occasion referred to. The party remained over night at Boss Rush’s tavern, twelve miles east of Uniontown. The people along the road heard of the coming of the distinguished travelers, and a number assembled at the tavern in the evening to get a glimpse of them. William Shaffer drove the coach in which Barnum was seated, and when he halted in front of the tavern one of the curious called up to the driver on the box and inquired: “Which is Barnum?” Shaffer answered gruffly: “I don’t know Barnum from the devil.” Barnum, meanwhile, had emerged from the coach, and standing by its side overheard the inquiry and the driver’s reply, and stepping up to the inquisitor said to him: “I am Barnum; the driver is right, it is hard to distinguish me from the devil.” The party entered the good old tavern and were entertained and lodged in the handsome style for which Boss Rush was greatly and justly distinguished. Fresh trout were served for breakfast, which had been taken the day before in a near by mountain stream by F. B. Titlow and young Boss Rush, then a lad of sixteen. Titlow, now one of the best known citizens of the vicinity of Uniontown, and still a lover of fishing and hunting, was then an apprentice to the tailoring trade at Farmington, under the guidance of John Hair. Young Boss, grown gray, still lingers about the portals of his father’s old tavern, musing over the memories of the old pike.

William G. Beck, an old stage driver, still living in Fairfield, Iowa, has vivid recollections of the road. In a letter he states that, “if there is anything in the world that makes him, at the age of seventy-four, jump up and crack his heels together and wish he was a boy again, it is reading about the men and things of the National Road.” He is a son of James Beck, of the old bridge building firm, and commenced to drive stage on the Old line when in his minority. He was born in Uniontown in 1819, went to Iowa in 1847, and was on the National Road as a stage driver as late as 1846. In his letter he states that in 1846 the Old line and the Good Intent both carried the mails. There was a “Lock mail” in leather pouches, and a “Canvass mail,” the latter very frequently called “the second mail,” carried in alternate months by the respective lines. In December, 1846, he says the Old line carried the “Lock mail.” The details of an exciting race on the road he furnishes as follows: “A Good Intent coach was driven by Jacob Cronch to the railway station, immediately upon the arrival of the train at Cumberland, loaded up with the ‘Canvass mail,’ and started off under full speed for the West. The ‘Lock mail,’ which fell to me, was taken to the postoffice and overhauled, causing a considerable detention. While waiting in front of the postoffice for the mail bags, Jacob Shuck and other Good Intent drivers chided me with the fact that the ‘Canvass’ had such a start that I could not get near it. I made up my mind that if it was in the hides of my two teams I would catch him, and pass him. It was after nightfall, and in crossing a water way in Cumberland my lamps went out, and what I deemed a calamity turned out in the end to be an advantage. As soon as I crossed the Wills creek bridge, I put my team in a full run and never pulled them up until I reached Rock Hill, seven miles out of Cumberland. At that point, in the winding of the road, I espied the lights on the coach of my rival, while he, by reason of the going out of my lights, was unable to see me, although, on the long stretches, he was constantly watching for a glimpse of me. Much to his surprise I drew up along side of him, and side by side we drove into Frostburg, lashing our tired teams at every jump. The grooms at the Frostburg station had my second team hitched to the coach by the time I was fairly stopped. A friendly driver ran with the way mail to the Frostburg postoffice, while another re-lit my lamps. I did not leave my seat. The reins over the fresh team were thrown up to me, and I was off again in a full run. The way mail bag was thrown into the front boot as I dashed past the postoffice. At Sand Spring (foot of Big Savage) I passed the ‘Canvass’ and held the lead, trotting my team every inch of the road to Piney Grove, the end of my route, which I reached twenty-two minutes in advance of my competitor. Lem Cross kept the tavern where our line stopped at Piney Grove. I made my route of twenty-two miles with two teams in two hours and ten minutes, fourteen miles of the distance, to the top of Big Savage, being ascending grade. James Reynolds relieved me at Piney Grove, and my competitor was relieved at that point by Joshua Boyd.”

Among old stage drivers there was one conspicuous above all others, on account of his immense size. It was Montgomery Demmings, known as “Old Mount.” He was six feet and upward in height, and his average weight was four hundred and sixty-five. It was a common remark, in the days of staging on the National Road, that “Old Mount on the front boot of a coach balanced all the trunks that could be put in the rear boot.” As he grew old his weight increased, and at his death, upon authority of his widow, who is still living, was six hundred and fifty pounds. He was born and reared in Allentown, New Jersey, and was sent out on the road in 1836 by James Reeside. His first service was on the “June Bug Line,” a line of brief existence, but full of dash and spirit. “Old Mount” married the widow of Joseph Magee, on May 3, 1839. The clergyman who performed the marriage ceremony was the Rev. John W. Phillips, of Uniontown. Joseph Magee was a blacksmith. His residence and shop were on the roadside, at the west end of Uniontown, near the present toll house. He owned sixteen acres of land on the northeast side of the road, which now forms a part of the Gilmore tract, and his widow, who is also the widow of “Old Mount,” is still living with a third husband, one Thomas, of Wales. Her present home is in Allegheny City, Pa., and she continues to draw a dower interest from the land owned by her first husband, above mentioned. “Old Mount” has a son, Amos Frisbie Demmings, living near his mother, named after Amos Frisbie, who lived in Uniontown many years ago, and carried on the business of stove making. After driving a stage for a number of years, “Old Mount” relinquished his connection with the passenger coaches, and became a driver on the express line. This line carried small packages of light goods, and oysters, known as fast freight, and the people along the road, by way of derision, called it “The Shake Gut Line.” The vehicles of this line were long and strong box-shaped wagons, something like the wagons used for transporting a menagerie. They were drawn by four horses, with relays at established points, driven by check reins or lines, as stage teams were driven. The speed of the express wagons was almost equal to that of the coaches of the stage lines. They made a great noise in their rapid passage over the road, and coming down some of the long hills, could be heard for miles. By the side of the drivers frequently sat one or more way-goers whose necessities impelled them to seek cheap transportation. What proportion of their meagre fares went to the driver, and what to the owners of the line, has never been definitely ascertained. “Old Mount” stuck to the road until its glory began to fade, and in April, 1851, left Uniontown and removed with his family to Brownsville, where he remained about eighteen months. While residing at Brownsville, he was engaged in hauling goods from the steamboat landing at that place to points in western Virginia, along the line of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, then undergoing construction. He owned the team he drove in this employment. From Brownsville he went to South Side Pittsburg, then a separate municipality, called Birmingham. From that point he continued the hauling of goods to western Virginia, and also kept a boarding house. He did not remain in Birmingham longer than two years, probably not that long, and moved from there to McKeesport, where he engaged in the hotel business, having previously leased the Eagle House at that place. He died at McKeesport on March 4, 1855, and was buried there. His death occurred in less than a year after he went to McKeesport, and thus terminated the career of one whose name, half a century ago, was familiarly spoken in every town, tavern and wayside cabin, from Baltimore to Wheeling.

Simeon Houser was a stage driver. When stages left the road Simeon went to tavern keeping. He kept the old house which stood on the lot now occupied by the residence of Dr. Ewing, in Uniontown. It was called the “Buzzard’s Roost,” not by reason of any bad fame of Simeon Houser, for it had that name before he got there. Simeon was a very tall man, and raw boned, with strongly marked face and features. He served a number of years as constable of Uniontown. In 1851 William Bigler and William F. Johnson, rival candidates for governor, visited Uniontown. Bigler took in Greene county on his tour, and coming over to Fayette, struck the National Road at Searight’s, where he met a popular ovation. His friends in that vicinity made a large raft of logs, which they placed on a strong wagon, and with a team of six white horses hauled to Uniontown, the Brownsville brass band seated on the raft and discoursing music, as the procession moved along the road. Bigler, in his early days, had been employed in constructing and running rafts on the Susquehanna river, and his supporters stirred up enthusiasm for him by calling him “The Raftsman of the Susquehanna.” He was elected, not because he was a raftsman, but because the Democrats of that day outnumbered the Whigs. Johnston, his competitor, was a Whig. The present Republican party was not then in existence. Simeon Houser, aforesaid, drove the big white team that hauled the raft, and this is why allusion is made to the incident. It was a grand day for Simeon. Mr. Bigler spoke from the raft in Bierer’s woods, west of Uniontown, to a great multitude, and Dr. Smith Fuller, standing on the same raft, made the speech of welcome. Simeon Houser, like hundreds of old pike boys, yielded up his life in defense of the Stars and Stripes.

Henry Farwell, father of the Broadway printer, was an old stage driver. He came to Uniontown in 1839, “the winter of the deep snow.” He came on the Oyster Line from Little Crossings, working his way through the snow, which averaged a depth of four feet on the level, and was three days on the way. The oyster boxes were placed on a sled, drawn by six horses, and the Oyster Line made as good time as the stage lines while the deep snow lasted, and passenger coaches, like oyster boxes, were moved on sleds. Farwell came to Uniontown in obedience to an order of one of the stage lines, to take charge of a team at that place. He drove stage for ten years, one-half of the time in Ohio. When the staging days were over on the old road, Farwell located in Uniontown, and carried on the trade of shoemaking, which he learned before he took to stage driving. He owned the lot on which the National Bank of Fayette county now stands. He has been dead several years, and is well remembered by the older citizens of Uniontown.

Archie McNeil was of the class of merry stage drivers, and enlivened the road with his quaint tricks and humorous jokes. His service as a driver was confined for the most part to the western end of the road, between Brownsville and Wheeling. An unsophisticated youth from the back country, of ungainly form and manners, near the close of the forties, sauntered into Washington, Pennsylvania, to seek employment, with an ambition not uncommon among young men of that period, to become a stage driver. In his wanderings about the town he halted at the National House, then kept by Edward Lane, where he fell in with Archie McNeil, and to him made known the object of his visit. Archie, ever ready to perpetrate a joke, encouraged the aspirations of the young “greenhorn,” and questioned him concerning his experience in driving horses and divers other matters and things pertaining to the work he proposed to engage in. Opposite the National House, on the Maiden street front, there was a long wooden shed, into which empty coaches were run for shelter, the tongues thereof protruding toward the street. McNeil proposed to the supplicating youth that he furnish a practical illustration of his talent as a driver, to which he readily assented, and crossing the street to the shed where the coaches were, he was commanded to climb up on the driver’s seat, which he promptly did. McNeil then fastened a full set of reins used for driving, to the end of the coach tongue, and handed them up to the young man. He next placed in his hands a driver’s whip, and told him to show what he could do. The coach bodies, it will be remembered, were placed on long, wide, and stout leather springs, which caused a gentle rocking when in motion. The young weakling, fully equipped as a driver, swayed himself back and forth, cracked the whip first on one side, and then on the other of the tongue, rocked the coach vehemently, manipulated the reins in various forms and with great pomp, and continued exercising himself in this manner for a considerable time, without evincing the slightest consciousness that he was the victim of a joke. A number of persons, the writer included, witnessed this ludicrous scene, and heartily enjoyed the fun. Among the spectators was James G. Blaine, then a student at Washington college. McNeil was a son-in-law of Jack Bailiss, the old driver before mentioned, and when stage lines were withdrawn from the road he moved with his family to Iowa, and settled in Oskaloosa.

Watty Noble might well be esteemed the Nestor of stage drivers. He commenced his career as a driver on the Bedford and Chambersburg pike. His route on that road was between Reamer’s and the Juniata Crossings, via Lilly’s and Ray’s Hills, a distance of ten miles, and his average time between the points named, was one hour and thirty minutes. He drove one team on this route for a period of ten years without losing or exchanging a horse. He subsequently drove for five consecutive years on the National Road, between Brownsville and Hillsboro, and, as the old pike boys were accustomed to say, “leveled the road.” When he “got the start,” no other driver could pass him, unless in case of accident. He was not a showy reinsman, but noted for keeping his team well and long together. In personal habits he was quiet and steady, and no man ever impeached his honesty or fidelity. Jim Burr, the famous old driver elsewhere mentioned, was a son-in-law of Watty Noble.

Charley Bostick, a stage driver who lived in Uniontown, gained a somewhat unsavory reputation as one of the principals in a social scandal, involving the name of a prominent old Uniontown merchant. The incident produced great agitation in Uniontown society at the time, and its disagreeable details are stored away in the memories of all the older citizens of that place, but it is doubtful if three-fourths of its present inhabitants ever heard of it. On the night of the occurrence it fell to Bostick’s lot in the rounds of his regular service as a driver, to take a coach from Uniontown to Farmington, but he was so prominently and closely identified with the event referred to that he deemed it expedient to employ a substitute, which he procured in the person of “Dumb Ike,” competent for the service and the occasion, and ever ready for such exigencies.

Alfred Wolf, an old stage driver, is remembered as a large, fine looking and blustering sort of a man. His wife was a sister of Watson and Robinson Murphy, two well known, thrifty and highly esteemed farmers of Fayette county, Pennsylvania. The marriage ceremony that made Miss Martha Murphy the lawful wife of Alfred Wolf was performed by the late Hon. William Hatfield, when that gentleman was an acting Justice of the Peace for Redstone township, and the writer hereof was present at the wedding. When stage drivers were no longer required on the National Road, Alfred Wolf engaged in the business of tavern keeping, and for a number of years kept a public house in McClellandtown; and when the strife between the States culminated in actual hostilities, he enlisted as a Union soldier and perished in the cause. His widow went to Ohio, re-married, and is still living in that State.

Henry G. Marcy, called Governor, because of his near kinship to the old time, distinguished New York statesman of that name, who was at the head of the War Department during the conflict with Mexico, was a stage driver and lived in Uniontown. He was a small man in stature, but had a bright and clear intellect. He died in Uniontown a number of years ago at an advanced age, leaving a widow, still surviving, but quite feeble by reason of her great age. George E. Marcy, also called Governor, a well known and active Democratic politician of Uniontown, is a son of the old driver.

Joseph Hughes, an old stage driver, is still living in Washington, Pennsylvania, vivacious and sprightly despite the weight of years piled upon his back. He was an expert and trusty driver, well known along the road, and cherishes the memory of the stirring times, when the road was the great highway of the Nation and he and his fellow drivers rode on the top wave of the excitement incident thereto.

James Bradley, an old stage driver, worked sometimes at repairs on the road. He made a breaker of unusual height on the hill east of Washington, Pennsylvania, and upon being questioned as to his motive for making it so high, replied that “he wanted to give some of the boys a lofty toss.” A few days thereafter, he was in service as a driver himself, and going down the hill mentioned at a rapid rate, to “scoot the hollow,” as he termed it, his coach struck the high breaker and he got the “lofty toss” himself, having been thrown from the box, a distance of nearly two rods, causing him a broken arm and other less serious injuries. He said, after this accident, that he would never again make high breakers on the road, or advise others to do so.

John Teed, husband of Mrs. Teed, who keeps the popular and prosperous boarding house on Morgantown street, Uniontown, was an old stage driver. His first engagement as a driver on the road was with the Express line, called derisively “The Shake Gut.” After driving a short time on the Express, he was given a team on one of the regular coach lines. He was an approved driver and promoted to the office of guardsman. The guardsman was a person sent with the coach to superintend its progress, and aid in protecting it from the incursions of robbers, which were not uncommon in the night time on the mountainous sections of the road.

Thomas Poland was in every essential a stage driver, and zealously devoted to his calling. He drove out from Uniontown, east and west, as occasion required. He was a man rather below the average stature, but stoutly built and of swarthy complexion. Many old drivers were moved to grief when business ceased on the road, but no one felt the change more keenly than Thomas Poland.

John Guttery, of Washington, Pennsylvania, was one of the early stage drivers of the road, and a good and trusty one. He was a tall man, rounded out proportionately to his height, and closely resembled the renowned old driver, Redding Bunting. He was a brother of Charles Guttery, the old wagoner and tavern keeper mentioned in another chapter of this volume. John Guttery, after driving stage a number of years, gave up that exciting occupation and established a livery stable in Washington, which he conducted successfully until his death in that place a number of years ago.