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Come let us take a little trip to James- town for the day And try it on upholstered seats "on princely home Railway" Because between the little bergs our neighbors and our own There runs the rolling stock on time which brings us safely home We start up Liberty, one square, and then one square out Third, And then up Market, out of town go skimming like a bird When near the junction, D.A.V.you take a little "switch" And cross the famous Jackson Run, and scarcely feel a "hitch". North Warren greets your anxious eyes, you stop a moment here And see the hospital, so great with lit- tle hope of cheer; You glide along to Crocker's curve, the narrows pass likewise And soon slow down at Siggins place, where Langdale trucking tries. From there the stately brick is seen, Farm Colony it's called; This place where morbid patients work "the yard need not be walled" Then on you go to Irvine's place, a homestead odd in ways, Which speaks of many years ago, of Guy C's lumber days. The old stone mill is standing yet, built in 1838 Yet shows no break or weakening points, Im f'rankly glad to state; Here Father brought his grist to grind, while I was a boy. And when he said: "come, Johnny, go; he surely gave me joy. And now we hasten on again, Pa-Pa and Guy have gone. And I have since to manhood grown; "it doesn't seem so long"; But, like the speeding, fleeting car, life hastens through the day And ere we hardly know the name, its car has passed away. The Little switch near Russell pass, and then the little town You reach by quite a sharp descent, just after going down, And then in Russell you arrive, this Pine-Grove was of old, Where Hodges, Sloan and Martin lived and made a bag of gold. But they have gone to their reward, and still we hasten through The little town on the grade, where fields are wet with dew; Some lovely cottages behold, on Cone- wango's banks Which make a picture fair, indeed, for which accept our thanks. And soon we pass the Iron Bridge, at Akeley near the stop And while we cross the waters blue, observe a pickerel "flop". And if you can, please take my hat and I will look again. For I have sought the fish's "nook" for fifty years in vain. At David Hale's and Nesmith's place a waiting room is seen; The banner one along the line and fin- ished up in green; I think Hale's is the finest place along the street car line And when I am not found at home, am here most all the time· Then up across the trestle high which spans the railroad track, Then down again we speed along, with easy kind of nack; Because the grade is "jolly" quite, then up by Marsh's swamp, Where cattle go to fight the flies, and swing their heads and stomp· Then Fentonville, that by-gone town, where Fenton used to live, Where Reuben E, piled up his gold, without a fine mesh sieve; But he likewise has passed away, and still the farm remains On which he used to sow the seed and fill his barns with grains, 'Twas Reuben E., the Governor, won laurels for his name; He served two terms, with record good, worthy of undying fame. Then Frewsburg, farther up the line, where Frews of long ago Became the envy of the town all per- sons seemed to know This hardy stock, those early days before I saw the light; And still I since have heard the name, until I see it bright. Around the curve we hasten on, and down a grade you go Beneath the Dolly Varden Road-- "what nick-name stunts we throw". On up across the sleeping creek; Still- water is the name, And here they tell you tales of fish, as I did, quite the same. The land above in early spring, does often overflow, Therefore the farmer bites his lip because he cannot sow His seed in time for good results if he can sow at all If I were he, no doubt I'd take, some Missionary call, And now along the steeper grade, the hill this side of town Which you must first run up, you know, before you can run down, Into a city full of stir, where all the folks seem busy Now at the Humphrey House we stop, the journey here is ended, And 'twixt the two old neighbor towns the scenes are sweetly blended. And if you do not know the road, and wish a trip for pleasure, You'll get a bargain for the price and rounded up, good measure. John B. Cable Warren Evening Mirror -- January 7, 1913 |