IX
STAGE JOURNEYS NEAR HOME 

THE old yellow-painted Concord stage-coach of pre-railroad days is now a thing of the past, both East and West. In a few localities it lingered on to within a few years, kept go­ing for the -most part as a matter of senti­ment. Let it not be supposed, however, that the days of stage-coaching are over simply because the old swaying thoroughbrace vehi­cle has passed out of use. Stages and stage-lines are numerous all over New England. Criss-crossed as it is with steam railroad and trolley lines, there are yet many communi­ties of importance and renown that are de­pendent upon the daily stages for their mail and express connections with the rest of the world.

From some points of view the modern stage is not the picturesque feature that its forerunner was. The old square-rigged ves­sels that graced our seas of yore have largely gone, and some there are who feel that the modern steamships and schooners are not as lovely to look upon as were the older types which they have so generally supplanted. But they are better suited to our present needs, just as the prosaic coal and gas ranges are more economical than the more pictur­esque open fire of logs, with crane-hung pots and reflector ovens. 'T is sad but true that open fires, square-rigged ships, and Concord coaches all became unduly expensive to op­erate. We may think that we enjoy the pic­turesque, but no one is willing to pay the extra cost for an everyday luxury of that order.

There is certainly one important feature of the stage-coach that has not changed for the worse, and that is the driver. Thanks to the rigid requirements of the postal service he is less given to drink than many of his predecessors, but he is no less genial. In olden times only the favored few could really know the driver. Box seats were always in great demand, and often commanded an extra price. To enjoy the yarns, and to benefit by the in­formation as to points of interest along the way, a box seat had to be secured. In the more democratic stage of the present day the driver and his passengers are all together within easy talking distance, for stage travel in the main to-day is not sufficiently heavy to demand horse-drawn vehicles larger than the surrey, or automobiles of touring type. It is not rapid transit, to be sure, not even in a motor car, for stops to deliver mail and to discharge errands are frequent, nor is it a luxurious mode of travel, with your feet tucked in among the mail sacks and express packages, but it is withal an inexpensive and delightful way in which to explore the "back country."

Few realize what a lot of attractive "back country" there is here in New England. The motorist has been finding it out in the past few years, and it is through his patron­age that many of the old country inns have been rehabilitated and enabled to offer a hos­pitality of a "what you read about" sort. The walker also knows the charms of the back roads, but there are those, who neither own automobiles nor blister-proof feet, who would enjoy a little journey with the country stage-driver, did they but know how to find him. New England is full of possibilities in this field, and there is no more delightful way in which to spend a week or two in summer than in the exploration of some heretofore unknown section of one's own State or region. There is an element of ad­venture in such an expedition which is most alluring to an imaginative mind. It is the simple life in the realm of travel, for one need not be burdened with much baggage. A small hand-bag, or the tramper's pack-bag, will hold all that any one really needs. Add to the bag a light waterproof, and one's outfit is complete.

He who would initiate his fellow vaga­bonds into this fascinating form of travel sought long and earnestly for the guide-book to the country stage-lines. At last he found it in the Post-Office Department at Wash­ington in the prosaic form of an "Adver­tisement inviting Proposals for carrying the Mails of the United States on Star Routes." Here were the routes, the running times and mileages, not of the one-horse buggy rural delivery lines, but of the so-called "Star Routes" which serve the post-offices off the lines of railway travel.

For New England there are six brief doc­uments, each one covering a State, and one other relating to the water routes on the in­land lakes and along the coast. While these pamphlets proved most suggestive in them­selves, cold, formal, and businesslike though they were in their phraseology, they needed the accompanying illustrating power of a map. It was then discovered that the Post-Office Department publishes post-route maps covering the entire country by sections, and that these are obtainable through the Fourth Assistant Postmaster-General, Division of Finance, at Washington, for a small out­lay in cash. One dollar and sixty cents sent by money order produced the two maps which represent New England, one for the three northern States, the other for the three southern members of the group. Then began the fun. Indeed, the working-out of the plan for such a trip is one of the chief pleasures.

Pick a region with which you are not familiar, or with which you desire to culti­vate a greater degree of familiarity. Let us suppose that you will choose the Berkshire region in Massachusetts, not alone the county of that name, but all that end of the State lying west of the Connecticut River valley. Its main valleys are traversed by steam roads and trolleys, but its chiefest charms lie back and away from these useful but common­place modes of conveyance. From railroad to railroad across the hills run the stage-lines, through the choicest scenery the State can offer, and touching many a quaint and attractive village.

One does not need to worry over where he will sup and sleep on the excursions. It is part of the game not to know, except from day to day, just where camp will be pitched. There are good enough inns along the road, and always a farmhouse or two where they like to turn an honest extra dollar by keep­ing a respectable stranger overnight. The stage-driver can always be relied upon to give full and accurate information as to all such possibilities along his route.

The one thing that must be mapped out with reasonable definiteness in advance is the route to be followed, for outside of those three official documents to be secured in Washington there is no source of reliable information as to the running times of the stages. Seldom can one driver tell anything definite about the route or running times of a brother stager whose line may be but a few miles distant. Another reason for care­ful planning with map and pamphlet is found in the fact that these routes are not laid out with a view to accommodating through passenger travel. Hence it is some­times necessary to supply short links by private conveyance, or by footing it, if one is traveling pack-bag light, in order to con­nect from where one route ends to a neigh­boring village whence another begins.

The reason for this will be readily under­stood when one takes up his study of the post-route maps. The stages run from the railroads back into the hills, and are cleverly devised so as to serve as many hamlets and farmsteads as possible along the way. One might suppose that this would tend to make these journeys by stage commonplace and tame. Happily for the tourist, however, the early settlers on the New England upland had a fondness for perching their villages on the hilltops, so that often the road runs for miles along a sightly ridge, or winds up a steep slope, always with views out into the neighboring valleys, or off across into other States.

Yet another advantage of stage travel is that the passenger need not ship for the en­tire voyage. He rides as far as his fancy may direct. If some particular inn or village attracts him by the way, or foul weather suggests the desirability of a change of plan, he has but to alight and pay for what he has had in the way of transportation. It is travel a la carte!

Slowly but surely even the horse-drawn surrey is being driven from the stage-lines by the speedier motor-car. Not long ago, on one of our stage cruises "up the State," we encountered a brand-new automobile driven by a native under the guidance of a professional instructor. It was an incongru­ous spectacle, almost anachronistic. Here was a middle-aged farmer, arrayed in his field motley, sitting at the wheel of a very up-to-date car of ample proportions. He was steering a wobbly course; his jaw was set; his eyes protruded. Manifestly he was not enjoying himself. Our stage took to the bushes to let the car go by on the narrow road. As we pulled back into the ruts, our driver, a man past fifty who had driven stage since boyhood, relieved his mind with this philosophic utterance: "Ef he ever lams ter run that 'ere buzz-cart I kin see where this old ark goes out er bizness. He cal'lates ter bid on my mail contrac' and run me off'n the road. Well, I s'pose hosses is gettin' ter be too slow. Ged-ap!"

 

THE END