History of Western Maryland. J. Thomas Scharf

      United States National Road. — In 1806 a road leading from Cumberland to the State of Ohio was laid out as follows:

      " Beginning at a stone at the corner of lot No. 1, in Cumberland, near the confluence of Will's Creek and the north branch of the Potomac River; thence extending along the street westwardly to cross the hill lying between Cumberland and Gwynn's at the gap where Braddock's road passes it; thence near Gwynn's and Jesse Tomlinson's, to cross the Big Youghiogheny near the mouth of Roger's Run, between the crossing of Braddock's road and the confluence of the streams which form the Turkey Foot; thence to cross Laurel hill near the forks of Dunbar's Run, to the west foot of that hill, at a point near where Braddock's old road reached it near Guest's old place, now Col. Isaac Mason's; thence through Brownsville and Bridgeport to cross the Monongahela River below Josias Crawford's ferry; and thence on as straight a course as the country will admit to the Ohio River at a point below the mouth of Wheelen Creek and the lower point of Wheelen Island."

      This road was one hundred and seventeen miles in length, of which twenty-four passed through Maryland. It was laid out by Joseph Kerr and Thomas Moore. In July, 1813, thirty-four miles of it had been constructed from Cumberland to Brownsville, Pa., or at least worked upon. It was to have been thirty feet wide. The whole cut of timber was to be sixty feet wide, and the road-bed, to the width of twenty foot, to be covered with stone twelve inches deep, none longer than three inches, and the artificial stratum to be supported on each side by good and solid shoulders.

      The National turnpike, which led over the Alleghanies from the east to the west, is a glory departed, and the traffic that once belonged to it now courses through other channels; but it still lives in the memories of some of the aged citizens of Allegany County, and not infrequently a glow of excitement and enthusiasm will mantle their cheeks when mention is made of it. Those who have participated in the traffic over that renowned thoroughfare are loth to admit that there were ever before such landlords, such taverns, such dinners, such whisky, such bustle, or such endless cavalcades of coaches and wagons as could be seen between Wheeling and Frederick in the palmy days of the old National "pike." And it is certain that when coaching days were palmy, no other post-road in the country did the same amount of business as this fine old highway, which opened the West and Southwest to the East. The wagons were so numerous that the leaders of one team had their noses in the trough at the end of the wagon ahead, and the coaches, drawn by four or six horses, dashed along at a speed of which few have any conception. Besides the coaches and wagons, there were gentlemen traveling singly in the saddle, with all the accoutrements of the journey stuffed into their saddle-bags, and there were enormous droves of sheep and herds of cattle, which at times blocked the way for miles and elicited from the travelers expressions of disgust often " more striking than classic."

      The old National road has echoed to the tread of great men. Clay, Jackson, Taylor, Harrison, Houston, Polk, Crockett, and a host of others were wont to pass over it on their way to the national capital.

      The compactness of the traffic secured it from marauders to some extent, but the traveler by coach had his expedition spiced by the occasional assaults of highwaymen, or road agents, as they are more elegantly styled in modern times, and there are places along the pike whose very names bespeak the terrors they occasioned in the olden times. Nearly every mile had its tavern, and every tavern its pretty maid or jovial host.

      There were rival lines of coaches, and the competition led to overdriving and many accidents. The passengers became partisans of the line by which they traveled, and execrated the opposition and its patrons. The threats of the disputants were often emphasized by an exhibition of bowie-knives and pistols, which more than once led to the verge of a battle. But among themselves the passengers in each coach were fraternally intimate, and the driver was usually an old hand, who could tell stories by the hour to beguile his companions on the box-seat.

      The rival lines brought rival taverns into existence, and as the two opposition coaches drove into a town for supper, they pulled up before separate houses. The survivors of the old days are united in giving credit for the uniform excellence of all the taverns. They were clean, spacious, generously conducted, and in some instances so durably built that they are still in good condition. The gilded and glittering sign swung out from a pole or staff, and a moss-grown trough overflowed and trickled melodiously before the porch, at one end of which an archway led into the stable-yard. The interior was substantially furnished, without filigree or veneer. The floors were sanded, and the beams in the ceiling were uncovered. An hour before the coach was due the landlord was to be found in a little alcove of the tap-room transferring his liquors from demijohns to bottles, setting his glasses in single file, and bidding his servants make haste with the supper. The villagers appeared at their doors; for the arrival of the coach, although a very familiar event, acquired a fresh interest from day to day, and as