On the 6th of December, the mail stage started from Philadelphia at two in the morning, driven by one Samuel M’Crea. There were nine passengers inside, and another on the box with the driver. The night was dark and cloudy. When the stage had got two miles from the city and was nearly opposite Turner’s lane, Porter started from the road-side, took the off leading horse by the head and turned him round. At the same time Wilson and Poteet came up, one on each side of the coach, with presented pistols, bidding the driver stop, “or they would blow his d--d brains out.” He struck the horses with his whip, but could not make them go forward. Poteet then ordered the driver and the passenger who sat beside him to come down. The driver obeyed, and the passenger was about descending, when Porter swore at his comrades for not putting out the lamps. Poteet put out the lamp on his side with the butt of his pistol: Wilson merely broke the glass of the lamp next him. Porter then left the horses’ heads, ran up and dashed the light out with his pistol. He asked the passenger if he had any weapons, and being answered in the negative, took his handkerchief and tied his hands with it. The robbers then rifled the passenger and bound the driver. Poteet asked the driver if he did not think this a very rough introduction. He answered that it was. The robber then asked him if he got his living by stage driving, and he replied that he did, and “it was a hard way too.” “Well,” said the ruffian, “this is the way we get our living, and ’tis very hard with us sometimes.” While these matters were going on Poteet and Wilson held their pistols in their hands, but Porter, more collected, thrust his into his bosom. This done, Porter and Poteet went to the doors, while Wilson watched the two bondmen. Porter told the passengers they should receive no injury if they did not resist. A Mr. Clarke proposed to attack the robbers, but was overruled by the rest of the passengers. The gentlemen then concealed some of their valuables. Porter asked if any of them were armed, and being answered in the negative, answered sneeringly, that “it was a pity.”