Twenty-year-old Mary Todd left her father's house in Lexington, Kentucky, in the fall of 1839 for an extended visit with her sister, Elizabeth (Mrs. Ninian W.) Edwards in Springfield, Illinois. Mary quickly became friends with a young neighbor, Miss Mercy Levering, of Baltimore, who was visiting her brother. At some point during that winter of 1839-1840, constant rains turned the unpaved streets in Springfield to mud, leaving the girls housebound for three weeks. Finally, Mary-always vibrant and energetic-had had enough and invited her friend to go with her downtown. Mary had a bundle of shingles that she planned to drop in the mud and hop across until they made their way to the sidewalks on Monroe Street.
Either the shingles ran out or the girls got tired of their adventure, because Mary hailed Ellis Hart, driver of a two-wheeled wagon called a dray, and asked for a ride back to the Edwards House. Drays were used for hauling goods, not people, and Mercy refused to ride in it, afraid of the scandal such an uncouth sight would cause regarding the two well-bred, well-dressed girls. Young Mary insouciantly left her friend mired in the mud and rode alone, causing quite a sensation in the upper social circles of Springfield. One young man, Dr. E. H. Merriman, who moved in those same circles, saw the spectacle and composed a poem, which was circulated around the town.
Mercy Levering secured a copy and kept it the rest of her life. In 1923, her daughter gave a copy to the Illinois State Historical Society, which published it later that same year in its society journal.[1]
Riding on a Dray
As I walked out Monday last
A wet and muddy day
'Twas there I saw a pretty lass
A riding on a dray, a riding on a dray.
Quoth I sweet lass, what do you there
Said she good lack a day
I had no coach to take me home
So I'm riding on a dray.
At Lowry's house I got aboard
Next door to Mr. Hay
By yellow Poll's and Spottswood then
A riding on a dray.
The ragged boys threw up their caps
And poor folks ran away
As by James Lamb's and o'er the bridge
I plodded on my way.
Up flew windows, out popped heads,
To see this Lady gay
In a silken cloak and feathers white
A riding on a dray.
At length arrived at Edwards' gate
Hart back the usual way.
And taking out the iron pin
He rolled her off the dray.
When safely landed on her feet
Said she what is to pay
Quoth Hart I cannot charge you aught
For riding on my dray.
An honor such as this
I meet not every day
For surely I'm the happiest man
That ever drove a dray.
A moral I'll append
To this my humble lay
When you are sticking in the mud
Why call out for a dray.
Dr. E. H. Merriman
Note
[1] "A Story of the Early Days in Springfield-And a Poem," Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society 16, nos. 1-2 (April-July 1923): 141-46.
