ds
whether he crowed for Congress or King George."

Some thirty-five years ago certain esthetic inhabitants of Dobbs
Ferry, having long desired to change its name, finally succeeded in
arousing enough interest to warrant the calling of a public meeting
for the purpose of discussing the question. The general sentiment was
that the new name should have a patriotic tinge. The names of Paulding
and Van Wart were favorites, with a strong leaning toward the former.
Finally one well-meaning but rather obtuse gentleman arose and said
that he knew both of these men; that he did not approve of Paulding;
that Van Wart was just as prominent in the Andre capture, and besides
was a Christian gentleman, and he proposed that the Van be dropped,
and the town christened Wart-on-the-Hudson. The proposal appears to
have been made in all seriousness, but the ridiculousness of the
situation killed the scheme, and that common piece of clay, Dobbs,
still reigns supreme.

The fine roads and the rush of a vanishing automobile remind one by
the very contrast of the days when the Post Road was a main artery of
travel.

Here is a description of the delights of a stage coach journey:

"A stage journey from one part of the country to another was as
comfortless as could well be imagined. The coach was without springs,
and the seats were hard and often backless. The horses were jaded and
worn, and the roads were rough with boulders and stumps of trees, or
furrowed with ruts and quagmires. The journey was usually begun at 3
o'clock in the morning, and after eighteen hours of jogging over the
rough roads the weary traveler was put down at a country inn whose bed
and board were such as few horny-handed laborers of to-day would
endure. Long before daybreak the next morning a blast from the
driver's horn summoned him to the renewal of his journey. If the coach
stuck fast in a mire, as it often did, the passengers must alight and
help lift it out." No wonder a man made his will and had prayers
offered in church for his safe return before he ventured forth. But
even such a conveyance was a luxury. As a rule people traveled on
foot, carrying their packs on their backs. The well-to-do rode on
horseback, and in some places post chaises with relays of horses every
ten or twenty miles could be obtained. What would the ghosts of such
travelers say to-day, should they stumble on a Pullman car or a
dust-compelling devil wagon? Our very expressions of speech are