Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 October 1879 — An Old National Pike Stager. [ARTICLE]

An Old National Pike Stager.

Another survivor of the old “pike’ is Samuel Nimmy— a patriarchal African, who “ played tambourine ” for Gen. Jackson, and drove on the road for many years. He is an odd mixture of shrewdness, intelligence and egotism. His recollections are vivid and detailed in point of names and dates, although he is 86 years old, and he describes his experiences in a grandiose manner that is occasionally made delicious by solecisms, or sudden lapses into negro colloquialisms. He lives in a comfortable cottage at Hagerstown; the walls of his parlor are hung with certificates of membership in various societies, and with various patriotic chromos; the center table is loaded with books, principally on negro emancipation and the events of the civil war. He continues a narrative in formal phrases and measured sentences for a long time without hesitating, and then, perhaps, a name slips him, and he murmurs, “Billy, Billy, Billy; Tom, Tom, Tom; Jack, Jack, Jack,” until the elusive cognomen is caught. West of Cumberland the road was bordered by an extrordinary growth of pines, the branches of which were so intermeshed that they admitted very little daylight, and from its prevailing darkness the grove was called the “ Shades of Death.” Uncle Sam Nimmy and others declared that on the most effulgent day not a ray ever penetrated it, and that it was absolutely black, which is a piece of picturesque exaggeration. It was very dark, however, according to the statements of more exact observers, including Mr. B.F. Reinhart, the well-known painter, and it afforded a favorable opportunity for highwaymen. “I had a very keen team, sir,” says Uncle Sam—“a very keen team, indeed; and nobody knows more about a horse than I do. I drove that team, sir, nine months without the least sickness to the horses, and I flatter myself that we had some rough service.” The flattery that Uncle Sam applies to himself is immense. “Well, sir, one night as I was driving through the Shades of Death with a few passengers; it was darker than usual; it was Cimmerian— Cimmerian, sir; and one said to me, ‘ Don’t you hear the sound of horses walking?’ I listened, and listened, and listened. I did hear the sound of walking, and seemed to see, although it was so dark, several figures in the wood. Some one then opened the pistol case and examined the weapons; the flint had been removed from each pistol, and about that time, sir, my hair began to get curly. The passengers didn’t like the way affairs were looking, and I thought that if big men were scared there was no reason why a little one shouldn’t be scared, too.” Uncle Sam is very diminutive; and, after acknowledging his trepidation, he repeated, in a manner of great candor: “I admit, sir, I was scared, and I just assure you, gentlemen, that I made every horse tell until we came to a tavern. But I wasn’t naturally timid; I was puzzled as to how the flints came out of those pistols, and we could never unravel the mystery. I’ve had a varied 'ife, sir, and always took an interest in general travel, to see if anyone was bigger than I was. I started a company of volunteers in the war, and then started a lodge, and bought up all the blue cambric there was in town for sashes? We had a parade, and Hagerstown’s never seen the like since she became a tavern. Next I started the Sons of Freedom, and came in contact with the law, because it was supposed we had an under-ground railroad in hand. I was vindicated, of course, and was as big as a dog at a hogkilling. I was born on the 29th of August, 1793, and I am just as bright as I ever was. I’ve been frozen on the box, but never allowed anybody to compose upon me; can’t jump as high as I used to could, and that’s the only difference between me now and twenty years ago. Gentlemen, I make you my most humble obedience,” he said; and as we left he called after us, “Don’t forget the date—Aug. 29, 1793.” W. H. Rideing, in Harper’s Magazine.