The one
who should have taken us was cursing and swearing in bed, and would not
get up. This was provoking enough. "Where is the agent of the
stage-coach company?"--"He lives about 47 miles off." "Where is the
landlord of this house?"--"He is in bed." There we were helpless and
deserted on the highroad, between 12 and 1 o'clock, in an extremely
cold night, without any redress or any opportunity of appeal! It was
nobody's business to care for us. I groped my way, however, to some
outbuilding, where about half-a-dozen drivers were snoring in their
beds, and, with the promise of making it "worth his while," succeeded
in inducing one of them to get up and take us to the next place for
changing horses. But before we could get off it was 2 o'clock in the
morning. We reached the next station, a distance of 10 miles, at 5
P.M., and paid our driver two dollars. In America drivers are not
accustomed to receive gratuities from passengers, but ours was a
peculiar case. After a most wearisome day of travel, being tossed about
in the coach like balls, expecting every moment to be upset, and
feeling bruised all over, we reached Cumberland at 9 P.
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