Summer 2003

The Stage Coach

Requiescat in Pace

contributed by

Richard Palmer

The Sherburne News, October 14, 1869

The glory of the valley has departed! Our venerable and respected friend, the Stage Coach, is dead and "the mourners go about the streets." Its wheels are silent; the oily tears that fell from its groaning hubs are forever dried; its end is reached; its lamps are extinguished; but we must put the brake on our emotions, for it would be bootless to disturb the repose that has settled over its venerated body.

Like an aged invalid, long lingering on the verge of the grave, it passed away so peacefully that few of our citizens knew when the sad event occurred. It has gone, let us hope, to a better land, where no heavy lading, no fractious horses, and no independent drivers can ever break its rest.

The shrieks of the locomotive, nor the rattle of the rail cars, will ever deface the pleasant recollections that cluster around its venerable form; the many times it has borne us upon its back; the many pleasant acquaintances formed through its introduction; the social companionship we have all enjoyed in our easy journeys of the road; the ecstasy with which, when a boy, we hung by its straps, whence the driver strove vainly to dislodge us by a “whip behind.”

The anxiety with which we have, in later years, watched its approach to the village; the enthusiasm inspired by its dash when it entered the village; as if to satisfy its waiting admirers that it could be lively on occasion; the interest with which we scanned its contents for the face of a coming friend.

How well we remember its dignified pace, so evenly regulated that the patient traveler found abundant time for careful observation, and leisure to become familiar with every turn, and every object on their side of the way, from Utica to Binghamton.

Out of respect for its age and public services the department continues to send the mail from Hamilton to Norwich in a humble way; but even that little tribute to its memory will soon be neglected, and all traces of its former existence will pass away. The sober, steady going representatives of the past, endeared to us by early recollections are laid aside, their places are filled by the inventions of this fast and furious age; and the brain of the oldest inhabitant is dazed by the whirl of events going on around him. As the lamented Artemus Ward feelingly remarks, “Sich is life.”

CLR Blog | Site Map | Contact CLR