AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PENNSYLVANIAN
crossing a ravine and small stream by means of a narrow uncovered and unprotected bridge. Deep gulleys parallel the road on each side. As a general thing travelers make a detour of about a mile to avoid this sudden descent. For some reason Hunsicker concluded to drive down the hill. At the very top the breech-band broke, letting the harness fall upon the heels of the horse. He gave a kick, knocking the shafts to pieces, and started on a wild run. “We are in for it, Hunsicker. Keep in the middle of the road if you can,” were the only words uttered. The wagon swayed to and fro toward the gulleys. Hunsicker's hat flew in one direction and mine in another. My umbrella was tossed into a gutter. When we reached the little bridge, where Hunsicker succeeded in bringing the horse to a stop, “John” was badly injured and the wagon a wreck, but neither of us had a scratch. It was an experience to be remembered but not to be repeated.
