It is curious to note how the word turnpike has been perverted from its literal meaning by popular usage. The common idea is that a turnpike is a road made of stone, and that the use of stone is that alone which makes it a turnpike. The common phrase, "piking a road," conveys the idea of putting stones on it, whereas in fact, there is no connection between a stone and a pike, and a road might be a turnpike without a single stone upon it. It is the contrivance to turn travelers through gates, before mentioned, that makes a turnpike. We recall but one instance of a refusal to pay toll for passing over the National Road, and that was a remarkable one. It grew out of a misconception of the scope of the act of Congress, providing for the exemption from toll of carriages conveying the United States mails. The National Road Stage Company, commonly called the "Old Line," of which Lucius W. Stockton was the controlling spirit, was a contractor for carrying the mails, and conceived the idea that by placing a mail pouch in every one of its passenger coaches it could evade the payment of toll. Stage companies did not pay toll to the collectors at the gates, like ordinary travelers, but at stated periods to the Road Commissioner. At the time referred to, William Searight, father of the writer, was the commissioner in charge of the entire line of the road through the state of Pennsylvania, and it was fifty years ago. Upon presenting his account to Mr. Stockton, who lived at Uniontown, for accumulated tolls, that gentleman refused payment on the ground that all his coaches carried the mail, and were therefore exempt from toll. The commissioner was of opinion that the act of Congress could not be justly construed to cover so broad a claim, and notified Mr. Stockton that if the toll was not paid the gates would be closed against his coaches. Mr. Stockton was a resolute as well as an enterprising man, and persisted in his position, whereupon an order was given to close the gates against the passage of his coaches until the legal toll was paid. The writer was present, though a boy, at an execution of this order at the gate five miles west of Uniontown. It was in the morning. The coaches came along at the usual time and the gates were securely closed against them. The commissioner superintended the act in person, and a large number of people from the neighborhood attended to witness the scene, anticipating tumult and violence, as to which they were happily disappointed. The drivers accepted the situation with good nature, but the passengers, impatient to proceed, after learning the cause of the halt, paid the toll, whereupon the gates were thrown open, and the coaches sped on. For a considerable time after this occurrence an agent was placed on the coaches to pay the toll at the gates. Mr. Stockton instituted prosecutions against the commissioner for obstructing the passage of the United States mails, which were not pressed to trial, but the main