In the early annals of our country, many instances of mail robbery are found, some of which occasioned the display of great intrepidity and daring, as the perusal of the following pages will show. While the country was yet thinly settled, and the mails were transported on horseback, or in different kinds of vehicles, from the gig to the stage-coach, often through extensive forests, which afforded every facility for robbery, the office of stage driver or mail carrier was no sinecure. Resolute men were required for this service, who on an emergency could handle a pistol as well as a whip. Some thirty or forty years ago, a mail-coach ran in the northern part of the state of New York, through the famous "Chateaugay woods." The forest was many miles in extent, and common fame and many legends gave it the reputation of a noted place for freebooters and highwaymen. One morning the stage driver on this route had occasion to examine his pistols, and found, instead of the usual charge, that they were loaded with _wheat bran_! A daring villain had, through an accomplice, thus disarmed the driver, preparatory to waylaying him. He drew the charges, cleaned the weapons, and carefully loaded them with powder and ball. That afternoon he mounted his stage for his drive through the Chateaugay woods. There was not a passenger in his vehicle. Whistling as he went, he "cracked up" his leaders, and drove into the forest. Just about the centre of the woods a man sprang out from behind a tree, and seized the horses by the bit. "I say, driver," said the footpad, with consummate coolness, "I want to take a look at that mail." "Yes, you do, no doubt, want to overhaul my mails," replies the driver; "but I can't be so free, unless you show me your commission. I'm driver here, and I never give up my mails except to one regularly authorized." "O, you don't, eh? well, here's my authority," showing the butt of a large pistol partly concealed in his bosom. "Now dismount and bear a hand, my fine fellow, for you see I've got the documents about me." "Yes, and so've I," says the driver, instantly leveling his own trusty weapon at the highwayman. "O! you won't hurt nobody, I guess; I've seen boys playing soger before now." "Just drop those reins," says the keeper of Uncle Sam's mail bags, "or take the consequences." "O! now you're joking, my fine lad! but come, look alive, for I'm in a hurry, it's nearly night." A sharp report echoed through the forest, and the disciple of Dick Turpin lay stretched upon the ground. One groan and all was over. The ball had entered his temple. The driver lifted the body into the coach, drove to the next stopping place, related the circumstances, and gave himself up. A brief examination before a magistrate resulted in his acquittal, and highwaymen about the Chateaugay woods learned that pistols might be dangerous weapons, even if they were loaded with wheat bran, provided they were in the hands of one who knew how to use them.