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Updated: June 27, 2025
Adair waited a considerable time in the cottage, and then returned home without receiving any satisfactory account of her pupil. All that she could learn was, that a little girl in a green bonnet had been seen stepping into a stage-coach. As coaches were continually passing the end of the village, she knew it was in vain making further inquiries. She wrote, however, immediately to Mr.
His heart was full of enterprise and the unfledged valour of inexperience. He had proceeded several miles, and the dusk of the evening was setting in, when he observed a stage-coach crawling heavily up a hill, a little ahead of him, and a tall, well-shaped man, walking alongside of it, and gesticulating somewhat violently.
The stage-coach yielded to the limited, the sailing craft to the ocean greyhound, but we are told that the only age that ever knew the truth, or had the right to express it, was the age which burned witches, executed dumb animals as criminals, whipped church bells for heresy, held chemistry a black art and electricity a manifestation of the devil or the Shekina of God.
It might halt long enough, however, to enjoy a view of the stage-coach in which its grandfathers got on so rapidly, rumbling before a cloud of dust over the straight pike that used to connect the metropolis with some lesser city.
Its place was then supplied by other and better vehicles,—though they were no other than old stage-coach bodies purchased by the company, and each mounted upon an underframe with flange-wheels. These were let on hire to the coaching companies, who horsed and managed them under an arrangement as to tolls, in like manner as the “Experiment” had been worked.
On the last of the two days, the stage-coach had brought him all the way from Groton in Massachusetts; starting for that purpose early in the morning, stopping at Concord for the passengers to dine, trundling them through Charlestown about the time the evening lamps were lighted, and finishing the whole distance of rather more than thirty miles in season for supper.
Osbourne to learn how to concoct a plum pudding. They learned, only the string broke and the pudding had to be served in soup-plates. Whatever else the life and the society may have been, they were never dull or tame. On one occasion, while crossing the desert in a stage-coach, Mrs. Osbourne met the man said to be the original of Bret Harte's Colonel Starbottle.
"I don't know any one else here," was the reply, "and I can't stay at the tavern." "Why, then, what will you do?" "I don't know yet," the lad answered, looking the picture of loneliness. "Where do you live?" I put in. "I did live in Philadelphia, but I left there the other day by the stage-coach, and arrived just now in New York by the boat." "And why can't you go back there?" I continued.
More trees behind the houses and, on the other side of the hill, cornfields, nothing but cornfields rolling away and away in great yellow plains, till they reached the golden sky and the setting sun, and were seen no more. That was our first view of Tadmor, when the stage-coach dropped us at the town." Mr. Hethcote still held out.
I think no New England summer is quite perfect unless you stay at least a day in the White Mountains. "Staying in the White Mountains" does not mean climbing on top of a stage-coach at Centre Harbor, and riding by day and by night for forty-eight hours till you fling yourself into a railroad-car at Littleton, and cry out that "you have done them." No.
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