Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1865-08-22
The Marked Money.

The Northern Railroad, that great, putting,
driving, hospitality destroying monster, winds
through the village now.
But there was time
Certainly there was time when those yelling
screeching engines did not rush at one end OF
the place at ell unseemly hours OF the day and
night, wind themselves about it, rushing of at
the other, after horriiying coil, and roaring
over the bridge like great serpent, such as we
have read of 10 legend seeming to say, i" Well,
have spared you this time-only swallowed
a few of your people. The next lime come III
take the whole OF your tiny village"
Yes, there was a time when the little place
was still smaller than now. Not so very long
ago either. We can all remember it-all who
can sec the little lines of silver streaking through
their hair. They can remember how when they
were young, this spot was tlyorlte on sleigh
rides, abouta halfway house IN the progress,
where fiddler (snce become yiolinist) was
ALWAYS to be had at a moments notice where
they had a way OF knocking up the incest little
suppors, while hot punch (oh, whisper it low y
was being discussed. aud where there was just
room enough for party to dance, and no more
no matter how large the party.
What in the village?
Nonsense | am speaking now of the little
white house that stands about midway as you
pass through. That is " The Village Tavern y
always has been the village tavern for more than
half century, until within ten years the last
word was painted out, and that Of " Railway
Hotel " substituted.
There was time when, "a | said, this "Vil
lsee Tavern was the great place for riding
driving and fishing parties to stop a, for dinner
aud supper. II was spot, too, for travellers,
when they did not scud over the land and arrive
at the places OF their destination in less tim
than they could stay at home. Many a travels
who came only for the nights rest, for his supl
per and breakfast, stayed over a day or two
perhap. for "a week There were trout and pick
erel in those days, that could be caught 10 the
clear, bright waters of the mill-stream, whict
ran stealtnly by tie foot Of the garden, les'
than a stones throw from the back garden, anC
was not banged and whirled, and beaten by
thousand miIl-wheels, and rumbled over by hal
hundred of steam trains daily. There wa
woodcock, too, FIVE minutes walk away, and
partridge or, il you liked little longer walk
something OF larger growth worthy oil you
powder and shot.
John Gordon kept the "yilage Tavern.
Gordon was q hard-headed, stoui-bodled, red
faced, Jolly, humorous Soosobman, lie was lib
eral, with au eye to the main chance. lie wa
proud OF bis position as landlord, proud that hi
house should bc known and spoken OF In tn
great city Of London, and particularly ptou,
that 80 many conaoisssuri thought !, well wort
their while 10 drive out to A" The Village FsS
ern,' that they might drink GOrton's lnimlia
!, bio punch made from the peculiar wblskey o
which the landlord had trace from the monen
, il came from the still, just close by the foot
Ben Nevis, to the hour it wen, gurglng dow
, the drinkers throat.
OF all those things was John Gordon proud
This was tho pride oil his profrsion bu, iheI
was one thing more Of which he was proud, an