CHAPTER XVI.

BY STAGE-COACH, DILIGENCE, AND POST.

The world moves rapidly, and the greater part of its motion, from a traveler's point of view, is by steam. On land and on sea the steam engine is the great propelling force; the railway train has usurped the place of the stage-coach and diligence, and the white wings of the sailing ship have been shrouded by the smoke of the steamer's funnel. The sailing ship and the stage-coach still exist, but their importance is gone, and, from present indications, there is no likelihood that they will ever return to their former greatness. On a few routes in England coaching has been revived, but only as an amusement, and there is no prospect that it will gain more than a slender patronage. The sailing ship is not a remunerative possession in competition with the steamer, and the persons who take passage in it wherever there is opportunity for the more expeditious form of travel are few and far between.

Before the general adoption of the railway in the United States, the mail-coach was in the height of its glory; all over the settled portion of the country the crack of the driver's whip resounded, and the vehicle, gaudy with paint, and dusty with what it had gathered from the road, was the admiration of all who saw it. The veterans who guided these conveyances were famous in their line as victorious generals, and it was the proud ambition of many a noble youth to be a first-class stage-driver on a great route. Early in the century, and down to 1840, the triumphs of these jehus were mainly in the Atlantic States and over the Alleghenies, but with the extension of the railway, the stage-coach became a star of empire, and took its course westward. The last great route of the stage-coach was covered by the completion of the Pacific Railway, and now its services are confined to localities that have not been reached by the iron horse.

The Pacific States have several important stage lines of a local character, and some of them have acquired a national reputation. Every visitor to California can tell about the drive to the Geysers, or the road to the Yosemite Valley, where teams of six and eight horses are driven at full speed around sharp turns, and a mishap might send coach and passengers whirling a thousand feet down the mountain side. Those who have journeyed north from California to Oregon are familiar with the mountain ride of three hundred miles between the termini of the railways of the two states, and there are several interior places of importance where the railway has not yet penetrated. The newer states and territories have a considerable number of stage routes in operation, and in the summer season the whip of the stage-driver is heard among the mountains of the eastern states, and in other pleasure-resorts where the denizen of the city seeks coolness and relaxation.

For traveling by stage-coach in America the preparations are not numerous. If the journey is to be one of several days you will need a strong constitution, as the luxuries of a palace-car, or an ocean steamship, are not to be found on the horse-propelled vehicle. Have a suit of clothes as near the color of dust as possible, and, if your sex is masculine, cut your hair and beard so that your head will resemble that of a pugilist, or the back of a bull-dog. Carry very little baggage, the least you can possibly get along with, and don't keep it where it will get in your way. Find a rear seat in the coach, and, if in winter, try to have it on the side favored by the sun. Of course you will try for a corner seat, and, if you get it, you will be all right. These things accomplished, resign yourself to fate and the care of the driver.

On a long ride by stage-coach you will naturally wonder how you are to sleep. For the first twenty-four hours you have a hard time of it, and your first night's sleep will be principally made up of wakefulness. But Nature will assert herself; the second night is quite comfortable, while on the succeeding nights you find yourself sleeping as well as in your bed at home, at least so far as obtaining relief from weariness is concerned. If you have never tried it you will be astonished to find how little you are fatigued after a ride of five or ten days.

In regions where there are highwaymen, facetiously termed "road agents" by the Californians, carry as little money as possible, and leave your valuable gold watch behind. You may have a revolver if you like, but it is generally of very little use, as the robbers come on you in such numbers, or under such circumstances, that your weapons cannot be employed. Generally the first intimation of their presence is the protrusion of several rifles or pistols into the windows of the coach, with a request, more or less polite, for you to hand over your valuables. When you have no alternative but to hand over, do so with alacrity, and lead your assailants to think it the happiest moment of your life. If you are compelled, as often happens, to step outside the vehicle and hold your hands in the air while standing in line with the other passengers, try and hold them a little higher, and be more in line, than anybody else. Where resistance is useless do not make the least attempt to oppose your uninvited interviewers, as they are a fastidious set of gentlemen, and regard with suspicion any movement of your hand towards your hip-pocket. The traveler who accepts the situation, and conducts himself philosophically under such circumstances, runs very little risk of bodily harm; the robbers are after his valuables and not his life, as it is not the least use to them, and they are unwilling to take it except in self-defense, or to aid their search for his personal property.

American highwaymen have not yet learned the art of carrying travelers away and holding them for ransom. This accomplishment is of Italian origin, and flourishes in Italy, Sicily, and other parts of Southern Europe. It was introduced into Mexico by the Italian emigrants who went there with Maximilian, and prevails to some extent in South America.

Accidents on stage-coaches are much more rare than one might expect when the occasional badness of the roads and the apparently reckless driving are considered. The fact is the driving is more reckless in appearance than in reality; the stage companies generally employ men who understand their business, though they may not be altogether Chesterfieldian in their manners. If you have any doubts as to the merits of the man who is to conduct you they can be generally settled by consultation with the agents of the company; the story they tell you may not be true, but there will be a vast amount of comfort in it.

A great many stories, mostly apocryphal, are told of stage accidents in the far west. One is to the effect that a driver once informed a timid traveler that nobody was ever hurt on his stage, though a good many had been killed. The stranger naturally asked an explanation, and received the following:

"There used to be a good many accidents," said he, "and lots of people were killed or wounded. The killed ones didn't make any fuss; the company just settled with their relatives, and that was the end of it, but them that was hurt made a good deal of trouble. They were always bringing suits for damages for large amounts, and generally getting 'em, and so I made up my mind to put a stop to it. When we have an accident nowadays I just take a linch-pin and go round and finish up all the wounded ones, and we find things going on much better."

For a short ride in good weather an outside seat is preferable, especially where there is fine scenery along the route. The place by the driver is usually the post of honor, and if that worthy is talkative, as he generally is, a good deal of information can be gleaned from him. He is usually unaffected by temperance principles, and a pull at a flask will serve to loosen the cords of his tongue.

The American coaches are of varied size and construction, according to the character of the roads where they are used. The old-fashioned stage-coach usually had a capacity for carrying twenty-one passengers, twelve inside and nine out, and was suspended on leathern braces. The form is still retained in the so-called Troy coaches and Concord coaches, but in many vehicles steel springs have taken the place of leather. A form of coach largely used in the far west is the "mud-wagon," which can traverse routes impassable for the larger and heavier carriage, and is specially preferred where the roads are bad. On some of the California routes, when the roads are moulting in the spring, there is often a depth of several inches of mud, and only the lightest vehicles can pass through it.

The diligence in Europe corresponds to the stage-coach in America; like the latter it has seen its sphere diminished by the construction of railways, and like it, too, it reflects the institutions of the countries where it exists. On the American coach there is no distinction; all seats have an equal price, and the first-comer has the choice. On the diligence there are grades and classes, and the seats are numbered and reserved like those of a theatre. The most costly places are in the _coupé_, which is beneath the driver's seat, and has windows in front above the level of the horses' backs; then comes the _banquette_, which is behind the driver, and is an excellent spot in fine weather, but disagreeable in a storm. The _interieur_, as its name implies, is an inside affair, and affords very little view of the road, and the _rotonde_ is at the back of the _banquette_, and cheapest of all, as it is also the poorest. Particular places may be secured for days ahead; on some of the Swiss diligences you may take your place thirty days in advance by payment at the office, or by enclosing the price of the fare with your card and a memorandum of the day and hour of departure.

Diligences are in use all over Europe to reach towns and villages that are not accessible by rail. Their fares are regulated by government, and the hours of departure and arrival may be relied upon as exactly as those of railway trains. At present the greatest country of diligences is Switzerland; they are to be found on many roads of that mountainous region, and on some routes they have a heavy patronage. Between Geneva and Chamouny, a distance of about fifty miles, there are sometimes a dozen diligences each way daily in summer, all of them filled with passengers. The diligences on this route are a solution of the problem, often declared impossible by American stage-drivers, of making a coach where all the seats are outside ones. The body of the vehicle contains the baggage, and the seats are in rows on the top, over which an awning is spread. The only exceptions to the rule of putting all the seats outside is in the _coupé_, which commands a higher price than the _banquette_, but in fair weather is far less desirable. The old-fashioned diligence with _coupé_, _interieur_, _banquette_, and _rotonde_, is not much used on pleasure-routes, as very few of the seats are desirable for tourists.

For a long journey the _coupé_ is the most comfortable part of the diligence; it contains three and sometimes four seats, but one or two persons may secure it by paying for the whole space. The French in Algeria have introduced the diligence, and the writer has pleasant recollections of some night rides in a capacious _coupé_, while journeying with a friend to and from the Desert of Sahara. The _coupé_ or any other part of the vehicle, once engaged, it cannot be invaded by any other person, and not even a Prince, Grand Duke, or any other titled individual would dream of taking it from you.

Posting is still in vogue in some parts of Europe, especially in Russia. Where the system exists it is under control of government, and the supervision is usually pretty strict. One may travel by post in many parts of Switzerland; he may have his own carriage or he can hire one from the government or from a private individual. One hour's notice is required for hiring a conveyance of this sort, and the changes at the relay stations generally take from 15 to 30 minutes. As in stage coaching, or any other travel by horse-power, the less baggage you have the better.

The country _par excellence_ of posting is the Asiatic portion of Russia, commonly called Siberia. European Russia was formerly traversed by post routes, but the construction of railways has caused most of them to be discontinued. In Siberia there are as yet no railways, the country is large and the roads are excellent. All these conditions are favorable to the posting system, and by means of it you may travel from the Ural mountains to the Sea of Okhotsk without a break. The writer once journeyed by post from the head of navigation on the Amoor River, in Siberia, to Nijne Novgorod, in European Russia, a distance of nearly five thousand miles. Fourteen hundred miles of this was accomplished in a wheeled carriage (called a _tarantass_) and 3,600 in a sleigh. A brief account of this journey will describe the Russian posting system.

The first requisite for the road is a _Padarojnia_, or road pass, which is issued by the government authorities, and without it no one can pass a single station of the route or obtain horses. The document states the name, residence, and destination of the bearer, the number of horses to which he is entitled, and the grade of his pass. There are three grades of road passes, the first for government couriers and high officials, the second for lesser lights in the official firmament, or for distinguished civilians, and the third for the common civilian. Horses are kept waiting for the first, and are generally forthcoming for the second, but the holder of a third class Padarojnia will often wait for hours before he can be supplied, unless he is willing to pay an extra fee to the station master for expeditious service.

Baggage must be in flat and broad valises of soft leather, and all hard boxes and square parcels should be thrown away at the start. These broad valises, or _chemidans_, are spread on the bottom of the vehicle; straw or hay is laid over them and the whole is covered with a heavy coarse quilt. You sit, recline, or lie at full length on this soft flooring; no seats are in the vehicle, and one very soon learns that he is far better off without them. A couple of thick and strong pillows are necessary to hold you in your corner and save you from the frequent thumps you would otherwise receive.

You can travel in the vehicle (_telega_) belonging to the government stations, but in this event you must change at every station, a performance that speedily becomes a nuisance, especially in a cold night. It is best to hire a tarantass to be taken through, or, if you cannot hire one, you had better purchase it outright and sell for what you can get at the end of the journey. The tarantass is mounted on a pair of stout and flexible poles that serve as springs, and sometimes they are so long that the two axles are at least twelve feet apart. It has a hood like an old-fashioned chaise, and is equipped with a boot and an apron, so that it can be quite shut in at night or in a storm.

To protect him from the cold the writer had a suit of thick clothing, covered with a sheepskin coat that buttoned tight around the neck and descended to the ankles. Over this he had a deerskin coat with the hair outside; it reached to his heels, trailing like a lady's dress when he walked, and was large enough inside for a man and a boy. The collar was a foot wide, and the sleeves were six inches longer than the wearer's arms; they were very inconvenient when he wanted to pick up anything, and when the collar was turned up and brought around in front it suggested the idea of a man without a head. For wraps he had a robe made of nine sheepskins, sewed together and backed with heavy felting; the robe was about three yards square and as impervious to cold as the side of an ordinary house. Then he had a fur cap fitting close to the head, fur gloves for his hands, and a mitten of sable skin for his nose. He discarded the ordinary boot of civilization and wore, over his ordinary socks, a pair of socks of squirrel skin with the fur inside. Over these he had sheepskin stockings reaching to the knees, with the wool inside, and over these he had deerskin boots that rose to the bifurcation of his legs, and were held in place by thongs. Thus equipped one may bid defiance to the low temperature of a winter journey across Siberia.

At Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia, he remained a month, till the snows fell and the winter roads were good. Then he bought a sleigh (_kibitka_), constructed after the general pattern of the tarantass, save that it was on runners instead of wheels. With a slight expenditure for repairs he carried this sleigh through to Nijne Novgorod (3,600 miles), or rather was carried by the sleigh. A Siberian journey may begin at any hour of the day the traveler chooses, and is continued day and night till it closes. The usual custom is to order the post horses to be brought around about 10 P.M.; the day and evening have been spent in feasting and farewells, and towards midnight the departing traveler nestles down among his garments and thick wraps, and is ready to go to sleep while the team dashes over the road at a rattling pace. Sometimes he is escorted to the first station by a party of friends, and in this case they set off all together about sunset and make an evening of it.

The horses are changed at distances varying from ten to twenty-five miles; they are paid for at each change, and the traveler must be provided with a bag of copper coin, so that he will never be at a loss to make out the exact amount that may be due. The driver expects a small gratuity, and he generally earns it by driving at a lively gait; a placard is hung in every station, showing the distance to the stations on each side, and the price per horse, so that the best intentions of the station master to cheat the wayfarer are frustrated. Everything included, cost of padarojnia, hire of horses, and gratuities to drivers, the expense of posting in Siberia is about four cents a mile; two persons may occupy a kibitka, and some of these vehicles will hold three, and the number of persons makes no difference in the cost except when it is so large as to call for more horses.

The station master is required by law to furnish travelers with hot water and bread, at a fixed price, and he may sell anything else that he chooses. Eggs can generally be had at the stations, but no other article of food can be relied on. The traveler will carry his own tea, coffee, brandy, and edibles generally; in winter the frost preserves them perfectly, and he is under no apprehension that his perishable provisions will perish. Soup is carried in cakes like small bricks; roast beef resembles red granite, and must be carved with an axe. There is always a fire in the travelers' room at the stations, and no difficulty in preparing one's dinner, which is seasoned with that best of all sauces, a keen appetite.

The sleigh glides merrily over the smooth roads and bounds the reverse of joyously where the way is rough. As long as the harness holds together and the team is in motion the driver pays no attention to the passengers, but lets them rattle about as they will. Occasionally there is a spill, but it rarely amounts to anything more than a disagreeable shaking up and a scattering of one's property along the road. To guard against a mishap of this sort it is customary to lash the baggage into its place by passing a strong cord over it a half-dozen times or more.

On and on you go, changing horses at the stations, and alighting two or three times a day for meals. In the cities and large towns you may halt a day or two for relief from the monotony, and for any repairs that your sleigh may need. The road is long; there are 209 changes of horses between Irkutsk and Nijne Novgorod, and some 90 odd between the head of the Amoor and Irkutsk. It gets tiresome after a while, and you gladly hear the whistle of the locomotive which tells you that your long ride is at an end.

The winter is by far the best season of the year for traversing Siberia. In summer the roads are dusty, the delays at the river crossings are frequently long and vexatious, mosquitoes and flies fill the air, provisions will only keep fresh for a day or so, and the tarantass is a heavy vehicle to draw. The frost seals the rivers, shuts up the flies and mosquitoes, lays the dust, extinguishes the malaria of the marshes, and preserves your animal food for an indefinite period. If you intend taking the longest and most exhilarating post ride in the world, by all means make up your mind to try it in winter.

The whole of Asiatic Russia enjoys the benefits of the posting system, and one may go by the government roads to the shores of the Arctic ocean in the north, or to the country of the Kirghes and Turcomans on the south. Whenever a new region in Central Asia is conquered and brought under the Russian rule, a post route is opened and stations are established, so as to afford certain and quick communication. The post route is to Russia what the railway is to the United States in developing new territory, and carrying to it the blessings, as well as the curses, of civilization.