of a Maryland court, with a pleasant smile and a ruddiness of aspect strikingly in contrast with that of the rheumatic son who accompanied him; a stout, quiet, well-to-do-looking gentleman of about fifty, with a young wife, two daughters, (one a young lady, the other not yet in her teens,) and a son: they looked like Northerners, and seemed to think we did, by the way they stole glances at us. I saw the trunks, and found they were the Rivermans of Philadelphia. At Charleston, which is a station within five miles of Shannondale Springs, a gentleman about fifty years of age entered the cars, with short sandy whiskers, brushed with great care, speckled white neck-kerchief tied with scrupulous exactness, white hat, yellow teeth and yellow gloves: made up our minds that he was an old bachelor, with dyspepsia. At Jourdon's White Suphur, two young gentlemen got in, arrayed in summer suits of the most fashionable cut the elder was addressed as Williams, the younger one as Sydney. They rattled away at a great rate with some acquaintances who got out here. Williams said it was devilish dull at Jourdon's, they were going to try Capon; whereupon the old lady with the delicate daughter inquired whether he had heard about the prospect of being accommodated at Capon's, an inquiry which was answered with great volubility by Mr. Williams, who, all the time, kept casting sheep's eyes toward the daughter or the maid—could n't tell which. His answer was not very encouraging, he having heard there was a slim chance for single gentlemen, to say nothing of ladies. The man in the white hat came to the relief of Mrs. Cushing, as we heard her called, by stating that a large party had left Capon's the night before, whose rooms they could probably procure; and, before we reached Winchester, quite a sociable party they made: Mrs. Cushing, Miss C., the Judge, Messrs. Williams and Sydney, and the man in the white hat whom no body called by name. Jourdon's is said to be something like the Greenbrier, or 'far White Sulphur,' as the Virginians call it. A man who was apparently used up by gout or rheumatism got out here, with the assistance of a stout black servant, who, having in some way incurred his displeasure, was berated with some oaths and an assault, but not a battery; for the rheumatic raised his long cane with great vehemence, but Sambo dodged, the cane came down to the ground, and the holder, not being very strong on his pins, came down with it. As the cars rolled away, we could see that the black had come to his master's aid, and was lifting him to the stage; whereupon Mr. Williams remarked that men who are void of understanding should n't assail the understanding of others, which Miss Cushing seemed to think very funny.

When at three o'clock we had traversed the thirty miles, and arrived at Taylor's Hotel in Winchester, (which is a capital house, the best we met with,) Mrs. Cushing was put into a fidget by the announcement that, if they went on to Capon's, they would probably have to sleep on the parlor-floor for one or two nights. What should she do? She first asked the Judge, then the landlord, and then the by-standers in the ladies' parlor; but, on suggesting to the daughter, who was listlessly lounging on the sofa, that she thought they could camp down one night and have the first chance in the morning, that young lady drawled out, Why, ma-a!' in such a deprecatory tone as at once to hush up all farther talk

on the matter; Mrs. Cushing remarking aside to us that she hated to worry the poor thing, her dyspepsia made her so nervous, but she hoped a careful diet and the spring-waters would soon restore her; and the colored maid was forthwith dispatched to see that a dish of boiled rice was prepared for a sick lady. All went in to dinner. The boiled rice was placed before the invalid, and aided in its digestion by hot corncakes full of melted butter, followed by two ears of boiled corn, which Mrs. C. was sure could n't do her any harm. A slice of juicy ham, some breast of chicken, just a little taste of that venison,' some apple-pie, and a tumbler of milk, a slice of sponge-cake, and a custard, went down to help the rice and the corn. The lady's nerves being thus fortified, Mr. Williams ventured to renew the discarded topic: told of the pleasant stage-ride they should have to Capon's, the dust being all laid; and how he had no doubt he could induce some bachelor-friend to surrender his room for a time to the ladies; and how there was to be a ball there on the next evening, which the ladies would enjoy; and how dull it would be here. Miss C. said she did n't care for the ball, but to oblige ma-a she would go. So, at five o'clock, a stage-coach was crammed, and drove off the old lady, the Judge and his sick son on the back seat, Mr. Williams, Miss Cushing and Sydney on the middle; and the old bachelor in the white hat, with three or four others, stowed away on the front seat and the box. A number of other stages on the night-line to Staunton successively departed, with enormous piles of baggage, and carrying with them a majority of the passengers by the rail-road, leaving the Philadelphians and ourselves comparatively alone. We soon scraped an acquaintance, and, finding that they were also bound for the 'far springs,' we agreed to take an extra, and make a two days' journey of what is ordinarily accomplished in one, but a very fatiguing one, by the regular stages, to Staunton ninety-six miles,' as the guide-board hath it.

II.

THE STAGE то STAUNTON.

AT eight o'clock we were off, a party of seven, beside Mr. Riverman's eight-year-old daughter, and our three-year-old boy, with his nurse; just a good load for a stage in such a country. The sky was overcast enough to prevent our suffering from the heat, and the dust well laid on the excellent road, albeit the long hills gave us sensibly to understand that we were in a mountain district. There is nothing in Irving's or Dickens's sketches that has made a more vivid impression on my mind than stage-coach experience, and I was glad I visited England when there were yet some stage-routes left on the great lines of travel. I can never forget the smooth roads, lined with hedges, the talk of outside passengers, and the explanations, so willingly given by the coachman, of all objects of interest on the road-side, and the regret with which we always received the announcement, I leave here,' as he gathered the ribbons in one hand, and cracking his whip with the other, drove rapidly up to the inn, and, throwing the reins to the groom, turned around to receive the shilling with which you are expected to part when you part with him; a custom, by the by, which has its good effects in insuring

civility, but wears prodigiously on the vest-pockets, and keeps one in a constant fever to get small change. The tired horses are unhitched, and saunter along with downcast heads to the stable, whence a groom in corduroy-shorts leads forth the fresh team, all brisk of step and glossy of skin, with curry-combing and rubbing down. Meantime sundry bundles and other luggage are taken down by the guard, and some of the outsiders regale themselves with ale, for which the little girl demands 'Tuppence, please, Sir.' Then ascends the new driver, who, standing in his place, elevates the reins with both hands and gives a low whistle, whereat we are off at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour. It is very pleasant. Then there is the French diligence: a clumsy-looking machine, described by Cooper as a coach with a half coach in front and another half coach behind; five and sometimes seven horses, of the most shaggy and forlorn aspect, three of them abreast, all fastened to the vehicle with ropes, and one of them ridden by a postilion with huge jack-boots coming up to his hips, incessantly cracking his whip, hallooing to the animals, who travel for five miles in a constant canter, except when they come to a long hill, where they are assisted up by a yoke of oxen. One travels fast, very fast, and finds the diligence very comfortable, especially the front part, or coupée. You arrive at a village: a flock of men in blue frocks and women with dirty caps crowd around, and there is an incessant chatter between them, the postilion and the guard; the women often acting as ostlers. I would not advise you to try the sour wine, unless for the sake of hearing the sweet tone of voice in which all the ugliest and coarsest French women say, 'Mercie, Monsieur.'

But I have been wandering from my subject. We are in an American stage, and change horses about every ten miles; sometimes, however, driving them fifteen, and then taking others left by the down stage, an hour or two before; for, at this season, when the travel is so great, ‘we have to be rather hard upon the stock,' says the driver. He is not, generally speaking, the neat, well-to-do-looking personage that you see personified in the senior Mr. Weller, but is, in the summer, half the time a picked-up idler, who has been driven to driving for the want of something else to do, and is only employed during the few weeks of the busy season. The regulars, who drive all the year round on the route to Guyandotte, are some of them old hands at the business, and make a ride on the box the more agreeable for the information they give you about the country, which the temporaries do not possess; but most of the drivers are very taciturn and unprepossessing, with rather a fondness for whiskey. They lead a hard life: driving night and day over these desolate mountain roads, and frequently with empty stages, (return extras,) no society but their horses and their tobacco, of which they chew enormous quantities, and which one of them told us supplied him with conversation and thought. They have more or less the care of their horses when off the box as well as when on, so that they have plenty to do.

There are only two outside seats; the steepness of the hills making an upper deck too top-heavy to be safe. It is a very slow coach. What with long hills, and tired teams, and over-loading, they seldom make more than four miles an hour.

When it is considered that we were eight hours, on the first day, in

Of course

travelling thirty-six miles to Pittman's, a farm-house on the north fork of the Shenandoah, and that we passed through no places of any consequence, you may imagine that there cannot be much pleasure in such progression. But you are mistaken. It is very dull work unless you have good company, or large internal resources; and we had the first. Indeed, if you put six or seven people together in a coach, and give them thorough jolting, you are pretty sure to find out of what stuff they are made. If there is any wit in them, it is sure to come out. the weather formed the first topic, and the prevalence of long periods of drought and rain, such as those which had prevailed of late, in mountainous regions. Next, the road: a state work, said to be better than any other in the Old Dominion. This led us to notice the backwardness of the state, heretofore, about internal improvements; but the new constitution promises better things. A rail-road is being built from Staunton, to connect with the one at Charlottesville; and in another year it will be completed, except the tunnel through the Blue Ridge. So, reader, when next you go to the springs, proceed by way of Washington and Acqua Creek. Mr. Riverman soon made it evident that he was a thorough business man, and knew all about canals and rail-roads, especially those which carry coal. We agreed that the James River Canal ought to pay, but somehow it did n't; that the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, though a grand work, would never earn a cent of interest for its stock-holders, but might cheapen coal: yet could never give benefits proportionate to its actual cost, and the embarrassment into which it had plunged the State of Maryland, and the District cities; that coal-stock was a very unsafe article to hold, especially when the companies had high-sounding names and large nominal capitals, with_plausible gentlemen acting as presidents, and urging off the stock. He said that the anthracite of Pennsylvania was the best to make iron with; that the Cumberland did very well for blacksmiths; but the cannel coal, which would one of these days be brought to market from some out-of-theway place in Virginia, would supersede all others for family use. concluded that this state would hereafter produce something else beside Presidents and politicians; her men of talent having all devoted themselves to public affairs, to the neglect of private interests, whereas, at the North, the energies and talents of able men had, of necessity, been more displayed in other channels. Then we discoursed upon the factitious reputation an ordinary man will often acquire, from one or two good hits as a member of a legislative body; while thousands of men, every way superior in eloquence, learning, and statesmanship, are unknown out of their own district, or out of the law-reports, where indeed they erect for themselves monuments more enduring. We examined the guide-books. 'Burke's New Guide' is very good for details; but a little compilation, published at Staunton, gives all essential information. Then the ladies began to speculate on the kind of dresses proper for the springs; and Mrs. Riverman made up her mind that she had made a mistake in not bringing more shawls, when she observed how many Mrs. Viator, who had been this way before, had provided herself with, for the cool nights. The styles of mantillas and flounces, and the comparative merits of Philadelphia and New York milliners, followed; in the

We

midst of which Mr. Riverman and I subsided into a gentle sleep, occasionally bringing our knowledge-boxes into side-contact, then forward with a sudden jerk, until the stage, having reached the top of the hill, descended with so rapid a trot as to shake us all together, and toss Mrs. V. into his lap and Miss Clara into mine. We began to wake up and rub our eyes, while Mr. W. looked at his watch, and wanted to know how far we had come. It began to rain a little- just a drizzle; in the midst of which we passed through a considerable village, and drew up before a public house, which looked very neat and pleasant inside. Two or three negroes led out the fresh horses, and, as they hitched-to, told the driver that they reckoned he was 'gwine to have rain enough now to make up for all dat dust. De corn needed it 'nuff, LORD knows, and 'taint no bad t'ing for de stock, nuther.' We went out of town at a brisk pace, but soon resumed our solemn rate of progression, and began to tell stories and sing songs: Miss Clara taking the lead in the latter, and all 'j'ining in the chorus,' except Mr. Riverman, who, not being gifted in that way, lay back and good-humoredly listened. He is one of your quiet, unassuming men of forty, who says little, but thinks a great deal; listens to every thing, and sees all that's going on. He has earned all he has by his own exertions, and feels now as if he could afford to take it easy, and give his family and himself the enjoyment of life to the fullest extent. He is evidently proud of his wife; who is a finelooking woman some years younger, rather more fond of show than he, but, with him, ready to yield in every thing to the daughter: a sprightly and intelligent young lady, who has just come out, and will not be easily caught.

There, that will do!' says the reader. You've talked long enough about your stage-company. Don't be impatient. I will get you on to the "Ginny 'prings,' as little Jim calls them, as fast as is consistent with a truthful narration of your trials in getting there. I had even thought of telling over some of the stories which were told to beguile the way, in order that you might appreciate the length of the ride; but I will spare you this time.

6

Yes,

On the second day, in going from Pittman's to Staunton, we passed one field of four hundred acres planted in Indian corn. How graceful the long, waving, green leaves of the tall plants appear! and the hot cakes are not slow;' as the young woman at Vauxhall Garden remarked about the ice-cream, after a dissertation by her lover on the beauty of the starry firmament above.'

We had occasion to appreciate this, on dining and supping at Pittman's, the previous night. The Virginian cannot live without hot cakes at every meal, either of flour, corn, rye, or all three-sometimes both. Cold bread and butter he cannot abide, except with fish and game; and the northern invalids who call for stale bread are looked at with wonder by the servants who bring it.

The second day we dined at a rickety old town called Newmarket; but we had no reason to complain of the fare, though not equal to that at most other places on the road. Generally speaking, the chickenmeat, hominy, beef-steak, and butter are good, to say nothing of applepie and milk, and the loaf of fresh sponge-cake which invariably ornaments the centre of the table.