Diary in America, Series Two | Page 4

Indiana--the passengers had slept at an inn, and the coach was
ready at the door, but Mr E had not quite finished his toilet; the driver
dispatched the bar-keeper for him, and Mr E sent word he would be
down immediately.
"What is he about?" said the driver impatiently to the bar-keeper when
he came down again.
"Cleaning his teeth."
"Cleaning his teeth!" roared the driver, indignantly; "by the --," and
away went the horses at a gallop, leaving Mr E behind.
The other passengers remonstrated, but without avail; they told him
that Mr E was charged with government despatches--he didn't care; at
last, one of them offered him a dollar if he would go back. They had
proceeded more than a mile before the offer was made; the man
immediately wheeled his horses round, and returned to the inn.
The Rev Mr Reid gives an anecdote very characteristic of American

stage-coach travelling, and proving how little the convenience of the
public is cared for.
"When we stopped at Lowell to change horses, a female wished to
secure a place onward. We were already, as the phrase is, more than
full; we had nine persons, and two children, which are made to go for
nothing, except in the way-bill. Our saucy driver opened the door, and
addressing two men, who, with us, would have been outside
passengers--`now, I say, I want one of you to ride with me, and let a
lady have your seat.' The men felt they were addressed by a superior,
but kept their places. `Come, I say,' he continued, `you shall have a
good buffalo and umbrel, and nothing will hurt you.' Still they kept
their places, and refused him. His lordship was offended, and ready to
lay hands on one of them; but, checking himself, exclaimed, `Well, if I
can't get you out, hang it if I'll take you on till one of you gets out.' And
there we stood for some time; and he gained his point at last, and in
civiller terms, by persuading the persons on the middle seat to receive
the lady; so that we had now twelve inside."
I once myself was in a stage-coach, and found that the window glasses
had been taken out; I mentioned this to the driver, as it rained in very
fast--"Well, now," replied he, "I reckon you'd better ax the proprietors;
my business is to drive the coach." And that was all the comfort I could
procure. As for speaking to them about stopping, or driving slow, it is
considered as an unwarrantable interference.
I recollect an Englishman at New York telling me, that when in the
Eastern States, he had expressed a wish to go a little faster--"Oh," said
the driver, "you do, do you; well, wait a moment, and I'll go faster than
you like." The fellow drove very slow where the road was good; but as
soon as he came to a bad piece, he put his horses to the gallop, and, as
my friend said, they were so tossed and tumbled about, that they hardly
knew where they were. "Is that fast enough, Mister," said the driver,
leering in at the couch window.
As for stopping, they will stop to talk to any one on the road about the
price of the markets, the news, or any thing else; and the same
accommodation is cheerfully given to any passenger who has any

business to transact on the way. The Americans are accustomed to it,
and the passengers never raise any objections. There is a spirit of
accommodation, arising from their natural good temper (note 2).
I was once in a coach when the driver pulled up, and entered a small
house on the road side; after he had been there some time, as it was not
an inn, I expressed my wonder what he was about. "I guess I can tell
you," said a man who was standing by the coach, and overheard me;
"there's a pretty girl in that house, and he's doing a bit of courting, I
expect." Such was the fact: the passengers laughed, and waited for him
very patiently. He remained about three-quarters of an hour, and then
came out. The time was no doubt to him very short; but to us it
appeared rather tedious.
Mrs Jamieson, in her last work, says: "One dark night, I remember, as
the sleet and rain were falling fast, and our Extra was slowly dragged
by wretched brutes of horses through what seemed to me `Sloughs of
Despond,' some package ill stowed on the roof, which in the American
stages presents no resting-place for man or box, fell off. The driver
alighted to fish it out of the mud. As there was some delay, a gentleman
seated opposite to me put