"I've got my orders! _Keep your seat, Horace!_"
At Mud Springs, a village a few miles from Placerville, they met a large
delegation of the citizens of Placerville, who had come out to meet the
celebrated editor, and escort him into town. There was a military
company, a brass band, and a six-horse wagon-load of beautiful damsels
in milk-white dresses, representing all the States in the Union. It was
nearly dark now, but the delegation was amply provided with torches, and
bonfires blazed all along the road to Placerville.
The citizens met the coach in the outskirts of Mud Springs, and Mr. Monk
reined in his foam-covered steeds.
"Is Mr. Greeley on board?" asked the chairman of the committee.
"_He was, a few miles back_!" said Mr. Monk. "Yes," he added, looking
down through the hole which the fearful jolting had made in the
coach-roof, "Yes, I can see him! He is there!"
"Mr. Greeley," said the chairman of the committee, presenting himself at
the window of the coach, "Mr. Greeley, sir! We are come to most
cordially welcome you, sir!--Why, God bless me, sir, you are bleeding at
the nose!"
"I've got my orders!" cried Mr. Monk. "My orders is as follows: Git him
there by seving! It wants a quarter to seving. Stand out of the way!"
"But, sir," exclaimed the committee-man, seizing the off-leader by the
reins, "Mr. Monk, we are come to escort him into town! Look at the
procession, sir, and the brass-band, and the people, and the young
women, sir!"
"_I've got my orders_!" screamed Mr. Monk. "My orders don't say nothin'
about no brass bands and young women. My orders says, 'Git him there by
seving.' Let go them lines! Clear the way there! Whoo-ep! Keep your
seat, Horace!" and the coach dashed wildly through the procession,
upsetting a portion of the brass band, and violently grazing the wagon
which contained the beautiful young women in white.
Years hence, gray-haired men who were little boys in this procession
will tell their grandchildren how this stage tore through Mud Springs,
and how Horace Greeley's bald head ever and anon showed itself like a
wild apparition above the coach-roof.
Mr. Monk was on time. There is a tradition that Mr. Greeley was very
indignant for a while: then he laughed and finally presented Mr. Monk
with a brand-new suit of clothes. Mr. Monk himself is still in the
employ of the California Stage Company, and is rather fond of relating a
story that has made him famous all over the Pacific coast. But he says
he yields to no man in his admiration for Horace Greeley.