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Yankee Polk
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TANI= INNIOCKPER
PA lot of business wont with the horse."
PICKING HIS MI
hinny, how many hotel keepers started in a livery stable. Jut then the
livery stable was a big part of the old hotel, so perhaps it was natural enough.
A lot of people picked their hotelbecause of a bang-up livery. The Pemigewasset
House was railroad owned. The stage lino from there to the Profile House was
also railroad owned, and there was stiff, sometimes bitter competition between
them and other hotels and pod -teams, as they called the. private teams.
Back in the Seventies, when we were running the old Plymouth, Governor Hatt
Head came up with his staff and officials to inspect the fish hatchery ishatth
the State was running at Livermore Falls. Governor Head had invited Governor
Long of Massachusetts, and they were to have a big time.
The Pemigewasset, of course, made the arrangements. They collected some
fifteen teams to convey the party from the Plymouth Station to Livermore Palls.
The Square was full of teams, but they didn't invite me to send over my team.
The Pemigewasset had the finest rig they could put up, waiting beside the plat-
form, handy for the Governor's party. I sent down my team, lemegfr, best one
I had, but I couldn't got near the platform had to stand away off, other
side of Square.
044.4., 11.
Train pulled in. Governor Head, aeeempantsW--47 Governor Long and their
crowd, got off. Pemigewasset folks rushed up.
"Your team right here, Governor, right this way."
Nut Governor Head wasn't to be rushed. He stood, looking around, over the
heads of the crowd, getting his bearings.
Yankee Innkeeper
ce,01-A-
-2-
"Right hero, Governor, for you and Governor Long. This is your team."
But the Governor had spied my team across the Square, and he was on his
,=ok
ray am:sews.
"Capable of picking my own team, I guess," he Skereg--eveal-irker-stmaitler.
"Rather like the looks of this one over here. Pretty good-looking team,
hey, Long? Guess I'll Alike this one, he called back to the station. "Get
that other team out of the way, and let this man drive up there!"
We stood a minute after the Governor and his party got in. I had a twelve
passenger wagon.
"What we waiting for?" fretted the Governor.
"Waiting for the rest to get ready," I explained.
"Shucks! Never mind about the rest. We're ready, aren't we? Let's be
going. Rest can come on when they're ready."
We went. Those four horses moved off with that loaded twelve -passenger
A(agon like birds. The rest weren't even in sight when we came to the Baker
River Bridge. There was a dip in the road there, like a hollow, and a sharp
rise on beyond up to high ground. I slacked up the reins at the bridge, and
"tohked" to the horses. By gosh, they sailed up that hill to take your breath.
At the top Governor Head turned to Governor Long.
"Guess I'm not such a bad picker of teams, after all, eh, Long?"
-4 _ -1. (-47-
HOW TOMMY GLISKY LICKED THE TOWN
Town meeting time was one great wrestling chance. The town hall in
Plymouth was diagonally across the street from the Plymouth House, and you
could see lem from the hotel, forming a ring. Two of lem would get into
the center and go at it. The winner would take on another and so on keep
Yankee Folk
"I TRAVEL AS I PLEASE"
Yes, sir, teams eounted something for a hotel in those days. The
Illailroad was like that, wanted all the business. Ole of their drivers
out of Plymouth used to try to get it for the railroad folks. But when
AL.
wewereinnymouth house we made up our minds that we would try to get
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our share of it, and we did.
I noticed two men get off the train, when I was nosing around the
depot after business. Nice -looking men. One had a fine moustache. On
the way, they said, to the Profile House. 06Arge Fifield stepped up,
aseumlag-44methey were,„naturall*, going up by the railroad coach.
"Gentlemen," I butted in, "now which would you rather de? Go up through
our beautiful Notch by this raili stage, whooping at full speed, mak-
ing time? Or go up by a private team, same pries, four dollars each
atop along the way when you see anything you'd like to look at, or get
out now and then if you want to?"
That idea kind of struck 'am. They seamed to think my proposition
sounded good. But the other driver wasn't the man to let business slip
out of his hands without a fight. "Ho," said he, "you go up by this
man's teams, 'n' you won't more'n get out of the village before one of
the horses'].), fall down in a fit. Then where'll you be?" "Tell you
what you do," said I. "My stable isn't but a little way from here, just
around the corner. You come along with me and have a look at the teams
I drive." They considered. "We will," they filally agreed, "we'll come
around after supper. We're going to stop here at the Pemigewasset over
night, and we'll be around."
Asor*2.
True to their word, I maw them coming after supper. I met them
and took them to the stables. There were eight handsome dapple -grays there,
all alike, heads right up in the air perT65:There, gentlemen, are the
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horseso>100 you see any among 'am that look '4140,'?" They said they
didn't. "Which are the ones you are planning to hitch up for us?" "They'll
all match. Any of them or all of them will work together. You pick out
any you want. I'll hitch 'am up." "Oh, no, you do the picking. We're
satisfied. We'll go up with you in the morning."
We started in the morning, a little before the railroad coach got
off, four horses drawing a twelve -passenger wagon, full. At Livermore
Falls I asked them if they wanted to stop and have a look. NO, they
didn't. And so we went on, taking it easy, the grays moving at a comfort-
able trot, passengers looking about, enjoying themselves, until my rival
came up behind with the six -horse railroad coach, and tried to pass. I
spoke to the grays. They lengthened their stride, just enough to keep
ahead of the other coach. One of the men called my attention to the coact
following us. "I think he wants to pass you," he said. "I know he does,"
I replied, "but I don't think he will." I let out the lines a little,
gave the horses more head, and they moved out away from that coach up
those Notch grades like birds! The roads hadn't been graded then, for
automobiles, either.
We kept a good lead right into the Flume House. I know I had taken
out my horses, and was looking after them in the barn before the stage
dame in. I always looked after my own horses, to be sure they got what
they needed. As I came across the road back to the hotel, the boss of
the coach -line was giving the men a piece of his mind. "...and how do
you fellows think the railroad's goin' to run these coaches, give you
proper service, if you don't patronise them? The railroad runs 'em for
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your accomedation. You've no business to hire these little pod -wagons.
You ought to travel on the regular coaches." "Look here, mister," the
,0c04100) ,<4
doctor was mapliElag. I-hed-leariod, coming up, that4w-eh-ief-peeseagee
was a doctor from Easton, Pennsylvania. "I've traveled all over the
world, and I travel as I please. No driver of any railroad coach is
going to tell me how to travel. You're no fit man to speak for the
rail*. You're insulting." He handed him back as good as the driver
sent.
luivytkr,k
The doctor whiVited to re as I came up. "Going back to -night?" he
asked. planning to, soon's I get supper and the horses fed."
"Well, don't. Stay over here and take us the rest of the way to the
Profile House in the morning. I was intending to go up by the railroad
stage in the morning, but I wouldn't ride on this man's coaches-.
401411
J-/
MR. IIEMENWAT'S BEAR
It was while we were keeping the Black Mountain House that I first
met Augustus Bemenway--you knew, the man who built that gymnasium for
Harvard College. Cost 4175,000. He came up there one day, just after
we had closed up for the season, or just as we were closing up, and
wanted to stay with us a while. "Don't believe we can, Mt. Bemenway,"
I told him. "We're closing up for the season, letting our waitresses
go, cooks and everything. Don't see how we can." "Just what I want,"
z-eut.ek
he mather-+Ieeded8 "want to be alone, all-b7-oursetves just all by our-
selves. We can get along fine." Be had his invalid wife with him, and
her nurse.
We finally made arrangements for him to stay awhile, he seemed to
like it so well. The hotel was up among the pine woods acres and
acres of 'em and roads running all out among 'em. rust the place
for sick people. '4?'He was a very 4asasauming man. I never suspected that
he was worth what you would call "money." Well, they settled down for
a time with us. Be loved to roam around the stables, look at the horses.
They were just about the handsomest horses you could find anywhere in
the state. Some of them were black black not dull or blue -like.
Some were gray, some dapple gray. Matched up in pairs and fours, red
halters, heads all up, snappy they were horses.
One of the horses I was especially proud of. Black as a crow's
wing, with a tail almost sweeping the ground. Two white legs behind,
white star in his forehead, arched neck, bright eyes. Man who had him
before me paid 4500 for him. Mr. Bemenway was out one morning visiting
the barn. I was in the carriage roam and the door happened to be wide
open toward the woods. A partridge came booming along, full speed,
struck against the open door, and broke its neck.
"Why," said Mt. Hemenway startled, "you have partridges thick as
that up here?"
"Oh, the woods are full of 'em," I told him, "just fall of 0E6"
That was back in the early 180's, you remember.
"Well," said he, "I'll have to telegraph back home and have my man
bring up my gun and my dog. You and I'll go hunting."
Mind you he said "bring: not "send." That set me thinking. If it
had been me, I Should have had 'em sent up by express. But not Mr.
Hemenway.
Next day up came the man and gun and the dog. He had his dinner
and Mt. Hemenway sent him back home.
"Now, Mt. Willis," he said, "we're going to get some of those birds."
He wanted me to go with him. "You know where the birds are, don't you?"
I said I did.
The dog nosed around, this way and that, until pretty soon he
stiffened into a point, his nose reaching out for the bird.
"Now, Mr. Willis, you stand right over then s He'll likely come down
by you if I don't get him. Then you try his."
He waited a moment.
"All ready?"
"Flush him:" he snapped to the dog.
Pouf: Up cane the bird.
"Bane," went Hemanway's gun. Never touched a foatheV.
The partridge sailed down across me and I downed him.
"Get him?"
+-TA, Vir4-
Hemenway rushed up, all excited.
",Right over there, foot of that tree." I pointed to where the
bird had come down.
"Great shot! Wonderful shot! He was delighted over it, couldn't
seem to get over it.
He wandered ahead of me into the woods. I lost sight of him a few
minutes, then the dog barked, kept on barking, all excited, and Hemenway
came rushing back toward me.
"Got a bear!" called when he came in sight, "a bear, up a tree.
Dog's got him treed!"
We went back tø the dog. I smiled.
"Mr. Hemenway," I said, "sorry, but that isn't a bear. It's a porcu-
pine."
Twas a monster porcupine black, 'twits, took He was awful tickled
over that.
"First time I ever saw one of thbse fellows in my life. Say you
stay here and let me go up and shoot him. You hold the dog, and...."
"No!"
He looked at me a little surprised.
"Well, then, I'll hold the dog and you go up and shoot him."
"No!"
A real question was in the way he looked at me this time.
"you hold the dog and we'll both go up and shoot it."
-"Oh."
I explained how, if a dog got hear one of t4se porcupines and he
wasn't quite dead, or if the deg nosed a dead one, he'd get his nose
full of quills and they would work their -way into him and kill him in
course of time, unless they were cut out.
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Ws blew the old fellow out of the tree. liemsiway stooped over it
for a minute.
"What you doing?" I called back.
He was pulling out some quills with a pair of pliers, and he put
them in his pocket -book for a souvenir, by goliki""
u w te‘
it it till they got tired and no more contestants showed up. "Ring
wrestling," we called it.
Used to be a fellow, Tommy Glisky lumberjack he was Short, smallish
fellow. You'd never pick him out for a wrestler, but, by gosh, he was. There
wasn't anybody could beat him. livery year he'd be at those town meeting wrest—
ling rings and lick everybody. Tackle anybody, no matter how big they were, and
lick sem. He had some tricks hold got up in the woods I don't know what they
were.
We kept telling him that some day he'd get his. If he kept on picking
fights with any and everybody, he'd run up against the wrong man some day. But
he'd laugh and go right on licking 'am till he ran up against Sullivan. Big
Irishman, Sullivan was. They were building the Femigswasset Valley Railroad
at that time, and Sullivan came up with the track gang. I don't know what his
first name was. I know he had a brother, though.
'Twas a dance that brought those two fellows together up at the Grafton
House, in West Thornton. Not a hotel exactly more run on the tavern plan.
They were putting on a big dance that night. Glisky was there, with a bevy
of girls he'd brought along. 1Twas in the winter time, and there were sleighloads
of people from all around. And Sullivan. It all broke out over a cotillion
they were forming. Glisky was doing it, and Sullivan told him he wasn't doing
it right.
"You get out 0 here and mind your own business," Glisky told him. "I
know how to form a cotillion."
"All right," said Sullivan, "If that's the way you feel about it, you go
ahead. You make up your crowd there, and I'll make up my crowd over Urn on
this side."
But Tommy couldn't stand that sort of thing, not before these girls and
and he came over to Sullivan, said something to him fighting talk. I guess.
Must have been, for Sullivan up and slammed him. The fight was on right there
on the dance floor girls and all.
It was an awful fight, but Sullivan licked him licked him terribly.
Licked the daylights out of Tommy, right there. Glisky managed to get away
at last, and get down the dance floor was at the top of the house, fourth
floor, I think and out-of-doors.
The dance broke up, then and there. Some of the boys got hold of Sullivan.
"Yam got to get out o' here," they told his. This ain't the end ol this
not with Glisky it ain't. He won't stand for a beating up like this. He'll
come back, and you want to be watching out when he come's."
They rushed Sullivan downstairs into the bar -room, and they hung around,
keeping guard over Sullivan until they were sure Glisky had gone off. But
Glisky didn't go. He sat out in a sleigh with some pal that had brought him
over, and waited.
Sullivan was sitting up on the bar, getting about ready to go when the door
opened suddenly and Glisky rushed in and made for him. Sullivan had just time
to scream: "Look out, he's got a knife!" When Glisky struck.
He aladhed the Irishman in the throat, cut his windpipe half in two
wicked. In the excitement Glisky got away. The doctor was called rushed in,
tied up Sullivan, pasted him together with some bandages, patted around his
throat with his fingers, and said he guessed he'd be all right. But Sullivan wasn't
all Algid. That wound kept on bleeding inside, and in couple of days he was dead.
My step -father, Mr. Buchanan, was deputy sheriff that year, and they sent
for him. He went over there, did what he could, but Glisky had disappeared.
They found a picture of him somewhere, and Mr. Buchanan sent it to Boston and
asked the help of the Boston police in finding him. They sent copies of that
picture all over. But Glisky had gone disappeared.
It went on about a year, I guess. Inside a year the Boston police pent
up word that they'd got Glisky located, out in the woods of Michigan, and could
produce him for $500. Well, Sullivan didn't leave any money behind him, and his
brother couldn't raise five hundred dollars, and the town wouldn't. The town
was awful poor said Glisky and Sullivan weren't local fellows, just transients
didn't see why they should bother about rem, put up any money on their account.
Glisky got off, scot free, so fax as I know. I never heard anything more
about him.
OLD ROCKING CHAIR
Take these old rocking chairs we're sitting in. Comfortable old chairs,
aren't they. Don't make such chairs now. Pit your back and arms, and the
seat rounds down just right. That little low one over there's my wife's
favorite chair. Oh, hundred years old, I guess, more or less.
The other day a lady was in hero. Saw that little mirror up on the wall
there --that one in the black and gold frame, with the picture of The Dancing
Girl on it. Said it was worth throe hundred dollars. I guess she wanted to
compliment us, or something. Bet she wouldn't offer three hundred dollars if
she was trying to buy it.
I made a venture into the antique business once only once. I don't
know much about it, but I saw a grandfather clock once when I was at the Black
Mountain House, and I wanted it for the hotel. ITwas a handsome clock, all
decorated with gilt and these spires and knobs and frills. Out in a country
home, it was.
"How much you take for the clock?" I said to the man. "Why, I dunno,"
said he, "dunno what they really are worth." "Twenty-five dollars, say?"
"Oh, no, no. Wouldn't sell for twenty-five dollars, would we, Ma?" referring
to his wife. "Would you sell it for fifty dollars?" His eyes kind of lighted
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up. He considered a moment. "I &wino, dunno's we want to sell it at all, do
we, Mat" She considered. "I dunno's we really need it," she said. "Slpose
we could get along without itt"Fifty dollars. Well, I dunno. Fifty dollars
sounds fair, don't it, Mat I dunno.
Vposen we might's well let it go.
Fifty dollars. Well, yes, you can have it for fifty dollars."
I took it back to the hotel, wiped it up, set it out.
Man came up from New York the next summer. He looked like he could
afford almost anything he wanted, and he got to wanting that clock. It was a
beauty. Wanted to know if I'd sell it, and what I'd take for it. "A, hundred
dollars," I told him. "Oh, no, no. I couldn't afford to pay a hundred dollars
for it. Out of the question." But he kept wanting it, looking at it. I let
it set. Didn't say anything more about it. The day he went away he asked me
about it again. "Well," I said, "You've been a pretty good customer of mine.
We're pretty good friends and all. I'll make it eighty dollars. "He went
off with it, mighty tickled to get it.
'Twas a groat rage about those years of folks coming up into the country
here and hunting up grandfather clocks. They got all they wanted, I guess.
Some folks down Boston way helped out some. I don't know who manufactured them,
exactly, but the racket was this. They made any quantity of imitation grand-
father clocks, and they were such good imitations it took an expert to tell
own from the genuine. They looked like a hundred years old, all right.
Way they sold lem was to bring up a lot and sot them around in old back
farmhouses and let the families have the use of them, on the agreement that when
these antique hunters came around they would let the antiquirs have Ism for
whatever they could stick tem for. Then the makers and the fellows who sold
lem would split on whatever they got.
No, rackets aren't confined to the city places. These old Yankees up
here in the backwoods can give some of these city follows handicaps.
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I took a party once from Black Mountain House over to Crawford Notch.
They wanted to visit the old Willey House. I remember it was kept at the
time by Azariah Moore. You've heard about the Willey Slide, how the whole
family was destroyed by rushing out doors when the slide came, and how
if they'd stayed in the house they'd have been saved. The slide split behind
up the house and went both sides of it never touched the house. Lots of
legends clustered about the old house. One was that there was a crippled
old Grandma Willey who couldn't run out when the rest did and sat in her
wooden rocking chair while the slide went by on her both sides.
At the time my crowd was up there they were very curious about an old
wooden rocking chair which stood in the middle of the room. It was pretty
dilapidated, chopped up, pieces hacked out of it, "What's that chair?" one
of them asked. "Why," said Azariah Moore, "that's old Grandma Wille;Is
rocking chair. One she sat in time of the slide, and was saved. Ain't
you never heard about it?" They never had, so he told 'sm. Nothing will
do with these summer people but they must have a souvenir from every place
they visit, and as Azariah explained that the condition of the chair was due
to the hunger of visitors for souvenirs, my people asked if they might have
a chip. "Oh, certainly," he consented. "Bverybody teased me so for chips
along back they even whittled tem out of the chair when I wasn't looking,
'Go aheid,' and I even furnished the hatchet to cut out the chips with.
Here tits, if you want to use it."
They did, and as they were busy using it, Azariah slyly crooked his
finger at me from the door to come out into the kitchen toward the bar.
room. "You see, Willie," he told me in a low voice, "when I found the summer
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folks was so possessed to lug away souvenirs of every curiosity in the
mountains I got to providing tem. I provide sem old Grandma Willey chair
in there. I buy tem new, scratch and bang tem up, hack tem up, till they
look pretty old, for a starter, and then turn tem over to the summer folks,
and they do the rest. Thatts the third old Grandma Willey chair they've had
this season. Oh, of course, they give me a little something a quarter a
chip standard price."
That was too good to keep, so on the wmy home I told the crowd. Laugh!
Row they laughed! Sven if the joke was on them.
AND THE HORSE IS GONE
The Honorable Samuel N. Bell built the Deer Park Hotel. He came to
us and wanted us to advise him in building it, said he was going to make
it as fine as money could do. I got acquainted with Mr. Bell, was sort
of by accident. He used to come up to the Profile House when I was at the
Black Mountain House, and often when I drove up there with parties, or by
there, he'd wave to me from the piazza, or hello to ma. Scraped an
acquaintance that way. Easy man to get acquainted with.
As we went on with the building, Mr. Bell got to telling us that it
was for us. Wanted us to manage it when he had it finished. "Wake it the
best hotel in the mountains, boys. It's going to be for you. Don't spare
expense. Make it as you want it." We became pretty friendly as the hotel
went along, and he kept up telling us: "Have it just as you want it. It's
going to be yours some day. Youl're the man to run this thing."
We opened the Deer Park Hotel the season of 1887, and it was crowded
to overflowing. Mr. Bell enlarged it for the next season, practically
doubled it. Be was planning to double it again the next season when he
died very suddenly, fell dead right in my arms.
The year before he died, my wife died, leaving me with five little
children. I was discouraged clear to the bottom. I told Mr. Boll I was
going to give up. I just hadn't th4heart to go on with his proposition.
"Now, now, Willis," he said to me, you don't want to give up. You can't
give up. You've got to go on. The only thing that'll save you, get you
on your feet again, is work something to keep your mind busy. Don't
lie down by the roadside. You can't. You've got five little children to
look after. You can't leave me now, for your awn sake and theirs."
He kept me going. Samuel N. Bell was one splendid man they don't
make 'em any finer.
I've got here a booklet of the Old Deer Park. This is what a high
class summer hotel was like, back in the nineties, up in these mountains:
-"Looking north from the depot ...about seventy -live rods
from the hotel you can see Mit. Cannon, or Profile Mountain,
Eagle Cliff, Lafayette, Lincoln, Haystack, Liberty, Flume, Big
Coolidge, Little Coolidge Mountains. On the east, Whaleback,
.Peiesiekt, Potash, Hancock, Loon Pond and Russell Mountains. On the south,
Plymouth Mountain and twenty-five miles down the Pemigewasset
Valley. On the west, Mounts Moosilauke, Tim, Blue, and Kinsman,
forming the finest mountain and valley scenery in New England...
"The house is furnished throughout without regard to ex-
pense. The office, halls, and dining roam are finished in
oak, the parlors in white wood the halts are nine feet
wide steam heat on the first and second floors, gas
throughout the house."
That gas was shipped up from Boston in barrels and dumped into a big
underground tank behind the house. Gasoline, it was. We had a machine
in the cellar which pumped it in and evaporated it into gas and sent it
through the pipe lines, in the house, to the burners. We used those
little white things to drop over the burners Welsbach mantles. And we
had big fireplaces on the first floor, three of them. The biggest one
was in the office, and it was a huge one. When Dr. I.A.Greene was up
there once, he wrote to a friend of his that we drove a joke of oxen right
through the front door, dragging in a whole tree, and dumped it onto the
fireplace, driving the oxen out the big door at the back. Dr. Greene was
a great joker.
"Our beds are made of the best South American hair,
forty pound mattresses. Th4ouse will accomodate two
hundred guests....
"There are fine groves of beautiful trees of all kinds
around the hotel....
"The Pemigewasset is inhabited by beautiful speckled
trout in great abundance, making the finest fishing resort
in the State....
"An abundant water supply, having a head of one
hundred fifty feet, comes from Loon Mountain, through a
three-inch iron pipe, with hydrants on either side of the
house....
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"Five hours ride from Boston without'ohange of cars.
Parlor cars direct from Boston without change. Fare, round
trip, $6.30.
*Our prices will be from $14 to $21 per week, according
to length of stay and total number in roam. Transient,
$3.50 per day.*
Croquet and dancing were the two great enjoyments everybody could
join in. Folks were crazy about dancing. Two or three times a week
some dance would be going on, either in a hotel or private house. If
it was winter, dancing was about the only thing folks could do for fun.
That and sleigh rides. And sleigh rides weren't any fun unless there
was a dance at the end of it. The program used to be a big sleigh ride,
from miles around, heading to a dance. Then, in out of the cold and a
hot supper. Then dance, dance, dance. Then more dancing. And about Mid-
night another supper. The usual thing oysters. Then more dancing.
They danced in those days. Nobody went home till four o'clock in the
morning.
And they danced on spring floors. I don't know how they built them,
but they teetered up and down, and when the crowd got going on them,
those old spring floors would jump around some, too.
We managed that hotel for eight years. It was the time when all the
big mountain hotels were going full steam, crowded with guests all summer
long. Of course, we had a poor season now and then, but for the most
part business rushed‘ Peoplrould come in families, stay from three or
four weeks to all summer, come again the next summer, and the next. It
was what you might call regular trade with many people. We could plan on
our supplies, our food, our help. Now, with the automobile, it's here
to -day and gone to -morrow, stop maybe for dinner, perhaps for a night or
tol, and flit on.
And the horse is gone, as it used to be. The six -horse, four -horse
rigs, Øpanking horses, silver -mounted harnesses, head plumes, carryalls,
twelve -passenger wagons
011,41110
carmine bodies with yellow wheels all gone.
Roads up through the mountains gay with flashing rigs, all summer long.
No more of them. And loOkat the business that went along with the horse.
I'd carry parties on a week's trip through the mountains, stop at a hotel
come night, put up the horses. And other parties would come to my hotel
same way. Now the automobile makes a trip in a day which took horses a
week. No hotel stops except perhaps for dinner, and a good many carry
their dinners along and make use of the hotel as a picnic ground. Leave
home in the morning, back again at night, and the only feed is gasoline.
A lot of business went with the horse.