Frank Bradfield, son of John, before mentioned, was also a wagoner. Fifty years ago, when but a boy, he drove one of his father's teams to Baltimore, "pulled up" on the wagon yard of the old Maypole tavern, in that city, attended to his team, remained over night, and the next day mysteriously disappeared. Search was instituted, but he could not be found. He had enlisted as a soldier in the regular army. His friends thought he was dead. He served through the Mexican war, and yet his relatives knew not of his existence. When that war was over he stepped one morning from a steamboat to the wharf at Brownsville. Nobody recognized him. He took a seat in a coach at Brownsville, and in a few hours thereafter entered his father's house, near Petersburg. He called for supper and lodging, and the person he addressed was his father, who did not recognize him, and to whom he did not make himself known. Supper was announced, and his father showed him to the dining room and withdrew. His mother, who was attending at the table, immediately after he was seated, recognized him, and fell fainting in his arms, and there was joy in that household, although inaugurated by a great shock. Frank Bradfield subsequently became a clerk in the Adams Express Company, and entered the Pittsburg office when it was first established in that city, and remained in its service until his death, a few years ago. He has a brother at this time in the office of the Adams Express Company at Pittsburg, where he has been employed for many years, and esteemed as a faithful and efficient clerk.