OLD HOMESTEAD 



We got up early and reached Adams an hour or two ahead of 

 time. The puffing engine, with three small, yellow cars, stood 

 on the track just north of the creek, hooting and screeching. I 

 had never before seen a locomotive or car, and I well remember 

 the sensation of awe and wonder with which I looked them over, 

 at first making sure that I was not too near, for I was really 

 afraid of the engine, if not of the cars. We got aboard early, 

 fearing we would be left, and started on our trip about ten 

 o'clock, moving off at what I then thought to be with dangerous 

 rapidity, and reached Richland about noon. We stayed a little 

 while at Richland, and returned to Adams under the same reck- 

 less speed at three o'clock in the afternoon. To know how fast 

 we were going I counted the fence-posts, which were seven or 

 eight feet apart. I found that I was compelled to suspend my 

 count every few rods by reason of having got ahead of the train. 



To me it was an experience and a day to be remembered. 

 Young as I was, I began to dream of something faster and 

 stronger than old Dick, our favorite horse, and of places and 

 things far away outside of Lorraine — even beyond Rome and 

 Utica. Neither was I, the small boy, the only one who had 

 his eyes opened and saw new light through the changes speedily 

 wrought by the new steam road. 



The road was soon finished to Watertown, and the old stage 

 route, lined with thrifty, busy people, was forever gone. The 

 long chain of comfortable, money-making, old taverns from 

 Watertown to Rome were never again to see the jolly and famil- 

 iar faces of their long-time guests. The uses and activities of 

 the old State Road had departed, never to return, and with them 

 went the flattering hopes and prospects of many an old Lor- 

 rainer, and my youthful ambition to be a stage-driver. 



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